


Strum

by Candytuft



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: A bit dark-, Actually pretty dark-, Aged-Up Minami Kenjirou, Aged-Up Otabek Altin, Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Alpha Otabek Altin, Alpha Victor Nikiforov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Angst, Beta Jean-Jacques Leroy, Celebrity Otabek Altin, Celebrity Yuri Plisetsky, Chicken Nugget Minami Kenjirou, Emotional, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotions, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Music, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Music, Musician Otabek Altin, Musician Yuri Plisetsky, Nesting, Omega Katsuki Yuuri, Omega Minami Kenjirou, Omega Verse, Omega Yuri Plisetsky, Past Child Abuse, Romance, Slow Burn, Totally diverges from canon-, from Otabek's POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2018-12-13 05:06:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11752659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candytuft/pseuds/Candytuft
Summary: Otabek Altin, a quiet Alpha with a harrowing past and a knack for music, meets a snippy blonde Omega with a gorgeous voice.Otabek allows himself to open, if only a little, to the other. They create music. Simple as that. They did not discuss their personal lives nor consider their dynamics, simply got together and created... An odd sort of relationship, but one that they both treasured.A hit is made, somewhere along the way, and with it come calls... Record labels to snatch the duo up and monetize, soloists  inquiring about collaborations, other artists, congratulating them...How will a broken Otabek and caustic Yuri, whom know little about one another, navigate the odd path of newfound celebrity in music, while still managing to retain themselves and the strange, confusing relationship they share?May contain mentions and/or brief snips of child abuse and child sexual abuse... While this is a difficult subject to write on, I realize this and hope that I am able to describe the topic with sensitivity and grace.





	1. Sensual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am proud to finally post this work's first actual chapter, woo! Writing this was quite a tiring, though fun, process, and a few late nights were involved. I hope I was able to stay fairly true to Yuri and Otabek as characters, and hope that I was not overly graphic in my description of Otabek's internal struggles.  
> I did not, oddly, intend for any- Er- Sensual stuff to take place within this chapter, but alas, it was difficult to avoid.  
> Any and all questions, comments, and thoughts for future writing are welcome!  
> I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

The basement of Otabek Altin’s modest Bronx home was, during the later months of the year, chilly at best, frosty at worst, but somehow crackled with life, energy sizzling on the air. Yuri was working with him on the instrumental for a track they had mused on for a few weeks now…

The song had been Otabek’s idea.

_“What if we did something a little more…”_

_The Alpha pauses for a moment, not sure how to put the idea to words without making himself sound a fool. Yuri was going to laugh at him…_

_Otabek looks up, a shy smile playing on his lips. Yuri raises blonde eyebrows expectantly, gesturing with a hand for Otabek to continue._

_“Sensual?” The Kazakh native tries, a little uncertainly._

_Immediately, Yuri was spitting laughter, pitching himself forward in hilarity, lengthy mane of tied-back perfect blonde tossing about, to which Otabek rolled his eyes and awaited the moment the bellows of amusement ceased. He'd anticipated such a reaction. Yuri and he tended to avoid sex when writing stuff, leaning towards more confessional topics… These were more comfortable for Otabek, and seemed to be easier to express on Yuri’s end as well._

_Of course, music was an art that explored every nook and cranny of the human soul. Intimacy was part of the human soul, right?_

_Yuri would be writing it all, anyhow. Otabek would need only provide the musical components and mix it all… The risk of being plagued with flashbacks was low._

 

And so, while a thrumming, moodily-programmed bassline pounded away, Otabek seated in front of a mic, the Alpha’s practiced fingers picked out a line on a sitar- Not an instrument he'd conventionally use, but it certainly fit the vibe they were going for, so to speak- A grimy, flirty reggae concoction.

Otabek had learned the sitar during one of the better moments of his childhood… Before his mother was lost, she had sat the then-young Otabek in her lap and taught him how to pluck the many strings into tunes.

The Alpha shuts this thought out of his mind and simply plays, head moving gently in time with the meaty bass he'd arranged.

 

“ _Oh,_ Alpha, fuck me, yes-”

Otabek’s fingers halt, and he loudly exhales, lifting his head to glare at the tiger-shirt-clad blonde sitting nearby, who had fucked up his recording with mocking Omegan moans and was now grinning ear-to-ear with contained laughter.

The ebony-haired male raises his eyebrows in annoyed question, the same handsomely bleak expression as always worn on his gaze.

“You look like a robot. You're supposed to be _sensual_ , Beka, remember?”

 

_‘On your knees, Beka-dearest, remember?’_

 

Otabek says nothing at first, allowing himself a moment of pause, swallowing the flash of thought before he has a chance to dwell on it. Though he knew Yuri was only playfully chiding him, with little importance… The comment rang true. Otabek Altin wasn't someone who was really sure how to be _sensual_ … The word made little sense to him, after having so long used sex to barter for decency. In a carnal sense, yes, he was an Alpha. Yes, he could scent when an Omega was in heat. Yes, he experienced the very same urges to breed, knot, mark, impregnate… As any other Alpha.

These things were, as Otabek saw it, sex, not intimacy. Intimacy was something that genuine lovers shared… Those who cared deeply for one another. Wanted only the best for their partner.

Something Otabek Altin didn't believe he would ever be capable of experiencing.

 

Said Alpha pauses the bassline on the studio’s computer.

“Don't know how. And it doesn't matter anyways. You're the one singing, not me.” Otabek says, leaning easily back in his chair, palms on the back of his head, running habitually over his close-shaved undercut, sculpted biceps on rather clear display for any onlooker.

Yuri raises a sardonic eyebrow. “Flexes, _while_ explaining that he can't be sensual. You're a piece of work, Beka.”

 

For an Omega, Yuri Plisetsky was rather… Un-Omegan, Otabek thought. Which wasn't to say he couldn't look the part, act the part, smell the part- Yuri usually made it easy to overlook his dynamic. He said what he wanted, dressed as he wanted, hung around whomever he wanted, rather than presenting himself a submissive pup in need of guidance and protection, as society’s perfect Omega ought to.

 

**~***~**

 

The same mouth that often pissed Otabek off happened to be the source of a very unique, versatile voice- Yuri could be heartbroken, he could be defeated, he could be determined… And, evidently, he could be _sensual_ , too, lending his tone a sort of husky, playful demeanor that could most certainly inspire more than a few raging hard-ons.

The fucker even winked at Beka whilst crooning the second set of verses into his mic, the dark-haired Kazakh native scowling in half-mock repulsion at the gesture.

Given about two hours and a couple retakes on some backing vocals, as well as a few lyrical additions and subtractions, Otabek draws away from his computer, rubbing at his eyes wearily for a moment. Yuri seems to catch the little moment of weakness… “Hey… Are you feeling alright today, Beka?” The Omega evenly inquires, a look of slight concern on his gaze.

Otabek nods, brushing off the concern. “Headache.”

Yuri doesn't seem to believe this answer, but does not inquire further.

“I'm going to work all of these vocals together and throw some finishing touches on this. You can go home, if you would like.” Otabek offers, returning his gaze to the computer.

“I'm alright. I'll hang around. Don't work today, anyhow.” Yuri replies with a casual stretch of the arms, fading lilt of Russia still heavy on his voice in spite of having lived in the States for a couple of years now.

“Alright.” Is the Alpha’s simple word of acceptance.

 

It isn't long before Otabek has slathered their latest track in some growly ‘90’s synth power, merging Yuri’s primary vocals with the backing ones and adjusting, adding layers and effects, even pitching down the mocking moans Yuri had interrupted his sitar-ing with and utilizing them in the background of the song. The final effects that the Alpha adds to the demo include a few bits of twitchy percussion, and, for fun, a dash of cowbell.

Interesting how quickly one could throw together a fairly catchy, sex-themed pop-indie-ish track. Playing the mostly complete song back for him and Yuri to consider, Otabek can't help but tap his feet and nod along to the sinuous, seductive groove.

“Post it?” Otabek asks in question once the song ends, casting Yuri an uncertain smile. He was referencing their shared SoundCloud account- Yuri had created it a few months back, and they had gathered a small following of listeners in the time since. Otabek and Yuri didn't usually create the sort of music that most would search out. Their style of choice was probably best described as acoustic pop-rock, if you needed a label, though the two had a tendency to play with genres. As of yet, they weren't really trying for a cohesive project or sound- Just toying with sounds and putting together demo tracks. The main goal of this, neither of them really knew- They were having fun, and that was what mattered currently.

“Fuck yeah. If you threw a Quavo feature or something on that, people would eat it right up. Damn.” The blonde responds with relaxed enthusiasm, clearly a bit surprised by how appealing the song had ended up sounding. The comment draws a snort of amusement from Otabek. “If we're ever famous, you are _not_ going to choose collaborators.” The Alpha jokes, saving the song to his computer as well as the flash drive they kept as a backup- Perhaps not the most professional of means, but it worked- And pulling up the upload page for their SoundCloud.

“What should we name it?” Beka questions his counterpart. Yuri considers the thought for a moment. “Mmmmmm… In Your Mind, I think. Since it's written in a way that sort of… Teases the listener? From an onlooker’s point of view, you know.”

 

_Similar to how Otabek viewed flashbacks._

 

“Makes sense.” The taller male clicks away and types a few things out. His computing setup in the studio was actually fairly impressive, a semi-custom rig with upgraded audio-processing capabilities to assist in Otabek's chosen usage of it.

The Alpha, after a good minute or two, pulls back and returns to his position of stretching, hands palming the lower parts of his undercut by instinct. “Posted.” Otabek murmurs, and yawns. Yuri nods with a smile of affirmation, slipping his phone from his pocket- To post an update to their Twitter and his Instagram regarding their latest, Beka assumed. Yuri actually had a fair bit of following on Instagram- A few hundred people tended to like his photos. Friends, family, those that followed the music he worked on with Otabek.

“Smile.” Yuri says mischievously, snapping a quick picture of Otabek- Who was most definitely _not_ smiling in the photo.

“Damnit, Yuri.” Otabek curses, an eye roll practically requirement at this point. Without a doubt, the embarrassingly-unaware pic would be posted with a disgustingly-tacky caption that would cause the Alpha nightmares and earn a healthy handful of adoring comments from followers.

 

**yuri-plisetsky**

_Surprise- The true artists (Sarcasm) have granted you peasants (Sarcasm) a new song, In Your Mind- #productiveonoccaision @_ **_OtabekAltin_ **

 

**~***~**

 

“Know what? I think we ought to go out, tonight.”

The pair were seated at Otabek's minuscule dining room table, having a bite to eat, the Kazakh-native warming some leftover _Plov_ , a pilaf-like rice dish with beef, for Yuri and he, as well as some spearmint tea, which Otabek conveniently choked on in surprise when the golden-haired Omega made this suggestion.

Yuri grins in satisfaction while Otabek coughs and attempts to regain his composure, able to scent his surprise.

“Out?” Otabek repeats, the low timbre of his voice edged with a bit of confusion.

“Out. You know. I have a few friends that would gladly come. Drinks, the like. Could be fun.” Yuri says this all as though Sunday barhopping with a guy he hardly knew, aside from their musical work, was a very casual, ordinary suggestion.

Otabek raises a half-confused, half-judgemental eyebrow. “Drinks. It's Sunday.”

“And?”

“It's _Sunday,_ Yuri.”

“Live like you're dying, Beka.” Yuri chides caustically, and Otabek, though quite certain he'd regret this decision fully before long, shrugs in nonchalant agreement. What could it hurt…? Though Otabek wasn't one for partying by any means, if Yuri was bringing along friends…

“Great! It's settled. I'll send out some texts, and keep you updated.” Yuri, finishing off his food and downing all of the tea Beka had made him in one go, sets his dishes in the sink and grabs his leatherette jacket from the pine coat-rack, slipping into it, the hide well-worn into the form of his slim torso and narrow shoulders.

Otabek blinks a few times, face and shoulders scrunching when Yuri musses his hair in a very-much-disliked goodbye gesture before heading out the door with a short wave at him.

Though the blonde suppressed and masked his pheromones and heats quite vigilantly, Otabek was sure he could make out a tiny whiff of nervousness in Yuri’s scent as he passed by to leave.

 

The Alpha isn't quite sure how to feel, confused by simply how _sudden_ Yuri’s plan had been. This was ridiculous, of course, given that it certainly was no one-on-one romantic deal… Drinking with some random friends on a Sunday wasn't romantic, and wasn't much to be confused over- People did it all the time.

Still. The occurrence was unexpected- Otabek Altin kept his dealings with Yuri Plisetsky on a strictly _friends-who-aren’t-exactly-best-friends-that-happen-to-have-some-musical-chemistry-together_ sort of basis… He didn't much enjoy opening himself up to people on a level deeper than professional, always fearful that he might find himself hurt by them, in some way. A byproduct of his earlier life.

Yuri seemed to have understood this about him when they'd first met, and hadn't asked much into Otabek’s past, interests or dealings outside of music. This made the suggestion to do such a mundane thing as drink with friends (Even on a Sunday evening,) extraordinarily odd… Perhaps, on some smaller level, he _was_ propositioning Otabek?

The Alpha brushes away the thought.

 

Before long, it is made known through method of a group WhatsApp that Yuri has collected four friends (An Alpha, a Beta, and two Omega friends, it seemed,) for their get-together, and that said friends will be meeting up with Otabek and Yuri at their chosen bar, around nine that evening.

Otabek offers Yuri a ride, which the Russian appreciably accepts, before the Alpha sets down his phone to get a bit of cleaning done around the house, perhaps to have a short nap before his later excursion.

 

As it turned out, _short nap_ as defined by Otabek's brain meant ‘Lay on the couch and fall into a temporary coma until the very last second it's possible to prepare for planned events.’.

 

The Alpha wakes at around eight forty-five, quickly sitting up in a panic. _Shit… He was going to be late…_

Otabek runs to the bathroom and yanks the handles of his shower into a sufficiently warm position, then finding a suitable outfit for the occasion- The Kazakh native settles on a sleeveless black button-up, jeans and combats.

After showering and dressing at rapid pace, Beka mists on a bit of cologne and grabs his dark-brunette biking coat- Like Yuri’s, it had worn into his body shape over time, and fit him snugly- As well as a helmet for Yuri. Otabek doesn't bother with his own- It would be a short trip, if his phone had been correct, and his was stowed away somewhere he couldn't quite remember.

A black Ducati SuperSport was Otabek's bike of choice- He'd gotten a deal on it, and the thing was an absolute _beast_ for the money.

Slipping both his phone and wallet into his pocket, Otabek departs for Yuri’s place.

 

Otabek has to remind his subconscious several times that the arms around his midsection were only Yuri, that everything was just fine, that he was _fine_.

“This thing’s fuckin’ loud, Beka!” Yuri calls at the top of his lungs, though it was entirely unnecessary. The blonde wore no helmet, on his insistence… Though Otabek had instructed otherwise, of course. Given this, it wasn't too difficult to hear him, even over the roar of the bike.

“Never would’a known.” Beka smarts loudly in response, guiding the Ducati into a parking space beside their chosen bar, a modest brick building with an open, walled-off back area- This part abandoned, given the current chill of October New York.

The ebony-haired Alpha kills the motor and kicks down the stand for his bike so he and Yuri can dismount, stopped by a hand on his side.

“Wait. Picture.” Yuri says simply, grabbing his phone, pulling up Instagram, and leaning into Otabek, draping his high-set ponytail over one shoulder before sticking out his tongue and snapping a pic.

 

**yuri-plisetsky**

_Drinks with an angel in black- #SundayFunday @_ **_OtabekAltin_ **

 

Otabek is still for a moment. “You finished?”

“Yeah.”

“Are your friends here?” Otabek dismounts from the bike, as does the slightly shorter male, who glances around the parking lot until he seems to find whomever he is searching for.

“Yo. Yuuri!” Yuri waves an arm, heading for a small group of four that were standing against the brick wall of the bar, a couple of whom had their phones out. Otabek shoves his hands in his pockets and follows.

A younger man, can't be too much older than they, seems to recognize Yuri, waving in response. The two embrace briefly, and exchange a few words, before the same happens with a somewhat taller male that possessed gilded platinum hair- These two were obviously a mated couple, or close to that point, evidenced in the way the taller silver-haired male stood always very closely behind the shorter.

Otabek approaches the scene with a reserved, if polite, air, and Yuri cuts straight to introductions. “Beka, this is Katsuki Yuuri, and Viktor Nikiforov- They're my vocal instructors.” The blonde introduces the mated couple simply, both of whom wave and offer good-natured Hullos- Otabek can confirm his observation about them being a couple- Recently mated, as the smaller of the two, Yuuri, had several deep red marks, still fresh, bit into his lower neck, and smelled much more subdued than an unmated Omega would.

The shortest of the four, definitely a very much _un_ mated Omega, speaks up now- “This must be the hot hunka guitar douche that you're always raving about on Insta!”

 

Yuuri and Viktor snicker to themselves, whilst the tallest of the four bursts into loud, bellowing laughter.

 

“Hey. You shut it, Minami.” Yuri snaps with an eye-roll, huffing a bit and becoming rather pink in the face, but otherwise moving forward. “This is Kenjirou Minami. Fucker works with me, unfortunately.” Yuri throws the shortest of them an unappreciative glare. On-cue, Minami winks.

Otabek remains stony, though a bit of red does creep into his cheeks given the Omega’s very _forward_ comment on his appearance, the root of which clearly had something to do with how Yuri perceived him. Otabek knew himself to be reasonably decent-looking, but clearly did not know how to take compliments particularly well.

“And finally, JJ Leroy.” Yuri introduces the last of their little gang, who also happened to be the tallest, and, if Otabek’s nose was correct, the only Beta of the four. JJ grins ear-to-ear, and sticks out a hand in greeting. Yuri snorts in amusement. “Beka doesn't do handshakes. Don't waste your energy.” The blonde chides intelligently, seemingly proud to know so much about _hot-hunka-guitar-douche_ ’s persona.

Otabek meets Yuri’s gaze and holds it, unblinking, while offering his own hand for JJ to shake, who also throws Yuri a triumphant grin.

Minami whistles lowly. “Straight cold.”

Again, Yuri tosses an irritated glare Minami’s way, silencing the Omega's teasing.

“I suggest we go inside. I'm thirsty.” The silvery haired Alpha- Viktor- Suggests, and they do.

 

**~***~**

 

As it turned out… Sunday-drinking could be rather enjoyable, when supplemented by Yuri’s friends, all of whom seemed to have no qualms towards acting like complete fools for the entertainment of the others.

Otabek had learned several things, thus far, on the outing:

 _One-_ It was easy to lose his worries in alcohol and people he rather enjoyed.

 _Two-_ Pool was a game best played without alcohol.

 _Three-_ Even bad music blasted in a crowded bar sounded good when one was tipsy.

 _Four-_ Yuuri Katsuki danced a mean pole, his Alpha was _obnoxiously_ proud of this, and Yuri was rather jealous of it.

 _Five-_ Something strange was going on with Yuri’s social media accounts- As the time wore on, his phone had begun to buzz more rapidly by the second, to the point that the Omega had simply turned the thing off. A glitch of some sort, it seemed. All the more reason Otabek didn't frequently use his- He even had most of the applications uninstalled on his phone, though Yuri always bothered to tag him anyhow.

 

At the moment, the four were partaking in a rather hallowed, sacred event- A wing-eating contest. It was actually quite appalling, though immensely entertaining. JJ had suggested it, and though the semi-drunken Viktor had at-first refused the very uncivilized game, when chided about his lack of competition, the Alpha immediately agreed to it.

Alphas had that tendency- Challenges? Couldn't turn them down. Nope, that would signal weakness, and how dare any Alpha ever be perceived as weak, particularly in the presence of their Omega- Who was covering his eyes with his hands in embarrassment (Peaking at the scene through his fingers, of course.). Otabek had noted that where Yuuri was the voice of reason within their bond, Viktor was the voice of _fuck-all-decency-I-never-back-down-from-a-challenge._

It had been a bit difficult for them to explain to their unfortunate waitress why a plate of one-hundred of the spiciest buffalo wings available was necessary.

And while Yuri and Minami were howling with laughter at the reddened, sweating faces of their friends, Otabek and Yuuri sat opposite each other in silence, body posture clearly portraying to the outside world that _no, as a matter of fact, they did not know these people, thank you very much_.

This consumes a solid fifteen or twenty minutes before JJ concedes the battle to Viktor. “We'll… Have a rematch…” JJ manages to huff, chugging a glass of water. “Next time.”

 

Viktor wears a self-confident grin of victory, though Otabek can't help but worry that both Viktor and JJ would vomit before long.

Yuuri uncovers his face with finality and huffs, rubbing Viktor’s back in a way that clearly states _‘It's fortunate that you are mine, and that I love you more than I hate you.’_.

Yuri and Minami laugh endlessly for another few minutes, proudly displaying the array of horrifyingly humiliating photos they caught while JJ and Viktor (Competitively) pigged-out.

Strangely, the place was becoming more and more crowded by the minute… It was nearly midnight, and somehow, on a Sunday night, people were showing up. The crowd made Otabek increasingly uncomfortable, though he says nothing and makes no bodily indication of this.

 

As the night wears onward, Otabek finds it increasingly difficult to avoid causing himself flashbacks, his enjoyment of the company slowly fading into weariness. As he became increasingly more drunken, the intrusive thoughts began surfacing every minute or so, set off by the silliest of things… Yuri and Viktor grinding on each other being the latest example, Otabek closing his eyes and exhaling, tears pricking as his mind forces him away from the bar and into his father’s bedroom in Jezkazgan.

 

_‘Bend over, Otabek.’_

_‘Папа, why must I have to do thi-’_

_‘NOW.’_

_‘Муж, остановись. Он просто ребенок-’_

_‘Выйдите из этой комнаты, бесполезная сука.’_

 

_Breathe in._

_Hold._

_Breathe out._

_Breathe in-_

 

Otabek was going to vomit. He could taste bile, his mouth filling with saliva. Quickly, without a word to the others, the Alpha departs for the restroom, jerking open the door of a stall- Not bothering to fully close or lock the door- And kneeling, elbows braced on the seat of the toilet as he awaits the twisting feeling in his gut and retching he'd been anticipating. Oddly, it didn't come… As if his stomach had simply been joking around with him.

Beta hacks and spits a few times to dispel the taste of bile in his mouth and sits up a bit, resting against the wall of the bathroom stall- Clean, thankfully. He was alone in the space, also thankfully…

Until someone else walked in, a familiar scent. Otabek stands from his rather pitiful position on the floor, until he hears a gentle knock on the stall door. “Beka? Everything alright? Do I need to find a taxi?”

Yuri.

Otabek says nothing at first, inhaling and exhaling deeply before responding in any capacity- He leaves the stall now, careful not to hit Yuri. “I'm fine, th-” The word is broken by a hiccup, “-Thanks.” The Alpha doesn't look at Yuri- He knew, somehow, that the Omega would catch something amiss in his gaze.

Yuri grabbed his arm, a rather bold move. Otabek turns with a questioning look to find Yuri’s determined gaze hard-set on him. “What's wrong with-” Yuri stops himself here, seeming to realize that this phrasing may sound a bit cruel, “What's wrong?”

This didn't seem a question as much as a demand… Yuri saw right into him.

“I am fine.” Otabek insists, jerking his arm a bit to get out of Yuri’s grip. The Omega holds firm.

“No. Something's wrong. You won't talk about it, but something is. I know you.” Yuri insists, to which he receives only silence, Beka’s eyes downcast. He had ruined their night…

“We need to get you home.” The Russian says with finality, and Otabek doesn't argue. He'd stopped drinking when he'd realized the booze only escalated his destructive state of mind, and so the alcohol was gradually losing its hold on him- Though he still felt far too fuzzy in the head to pilot a motorbike.

It was fine. He'd leave it there, get it in the morning- He'd had a GPS device installed so that he knew of its whereabouts if stolen, and had decent insurance…

 

It took a bit of time for Yuri to hail a taxi, enough time for Otabek to wonder why Yuri was accompanying him- It wasn't as though he couldn't hang back, enjoy a bit more time with his friends, and grab a ride later on.

“You can stay at the bar if you want…” Otabek offers Yuri as he is sliding into the backseat of the taxi, meeting the Omega’s greyish-sapphire gaze.

Yuri says nothing, simply slides in to occupy the seat beside Otabek and gives the driver Otabek’s address. The ride there is mostly silent, Beka thankfully managing it without any flashes of his past. When they finally arrive at the Alpha’s modest home, Yuri sufficiently pays their driver and the pair exit the taxi. Otabek, at this point, doesn't question anything… Yuri seemed rather intent on having some time alone with Otabek. No doubt to ask a few questions…

 

“Are you alright with me hanging out for a little while?” Yuri inquires softly as Otabek fumbles with the keys, the taller of the two nodding a silent approval.

Yuri accompanies the Alpha inside- Otabek's home always had a rather comforting scent, to Yuri. Warm and homey, not oppressively Alpha, though still rather masculine.

Beka heads first for the kitchen, searching out a bottle of root beer that he hadn't finished earlier in the day, something to help settle his turbulent stomach. He casts Yuri a distant glance. “Want anything?”

“No, I'm alright, thanks.”

Otabek nods his understanding. “I'm going to piss. You're welcome to mess with the TV or whatever.”

 

The Alpha relieves himself and takes a moment to find some clothing on the more comfortable side of things- A loose-fitting tee and some sweats. He returns to the small living area to find Yuri sprawled lazily on his couch, flicking passively through Otabek's Netflix. The Omega had untied his hair, the curtain of bright blonde falling over one shoulder.

“You watch weird shit.” Yuri comments sleepily as Otabek flops down next to him. Beka primarily watched horror and suspense films, sometimes action or fantasy ones, some international movies. Couldn't stand romance or comedies, and he tended not to watch shows- It was tiring, flitting from episode to episode.

Otabek doesn't respond to this. “You gonna’ pick something?” He asks the other, who sets down the remote between them.

“No, probably not. You wanna’?”

“I'm good.”

Yuri nods, resting his head back against the couch and closing his eyes for a few moments. The both of them, it seemed, were fairly high-functioning drunks.

 

“You can talk about things with me, Beka.” Yuri offers, seemingly out of the blue, eyes remaining closed, the statement free of his usual snark. Damn near the kindest thing Yuri had ever said to him.

Otabek is silent, unsure. He didn't think it was quite the time to talk about things such as that with Yuri- They weren't particularly close, though Otabek did consider him a good friend. Perhaps even a great one. Beka felt, strangely, that it was wrong to express his hurts with others- That he burdened them unfairly, that people felt guilt when he told them that. Otabek's pain wasn't the sort people could really talk about openly… He was an Alpha. It was improper for him to display that kind of vulnerability, _especially_ sexually, though he hadn't even presented at the time he'd been…

Most couldn't relate, anyhow.

 

“I'm pretty non-judgemental.” Yuri continues evenly, opening his eyes and shifting a bit. “I'm not blind, and I know that something has hurt you, but I understand that I'm not… That I'm not the type you'd want to express that to, I suppose.” The Omega offers an apologetic smile, and for some reason, Otabek smiles as well. Yuri showing this sort of self-awareness was a rare occasion, though quite a welcome one.

Otabek remains unsure of what to say. It takes a few moments of quiet thought before the Alpha speaks up. “I appreciate the concern. It isn't really something I feel I'm ready to… Share. Not just yet. I'm sorry.” Otabek's usual gruff shortness seems a bit tamped-down in this statement, and would for the next few minutes of conversation.

The blonde beside him casts Otabek a soft gaze- Not sympathetic or pitying, simply kind, the way he knew Otabek would prefer. Even his scent spoke understanding, the gentle pheromones Yuri emits helping to soothe Beka, helping the Alpha understand his selfless intent. His tone, however, reads a _bit_ less softly, “Do not apologize for that. Now, or ever. I only offer because I know sometimes people need to talk. Everybody does. _Even_ us badasses.”

Otabek finds himself unable to resist a small smile and puff of laughter.

“Don't try to act like I'm not hilarious. I'm comedy gold.”

Beka has to allow himself a little more laughter here.

Though Yuri was likely unaware, few others could draw such a thing from Otabek. Yuri rests his head and shuts his eyes in blissful drowsiness once more, as does Beka.

Otabek is the next to speak, and though the question is blunt, his voice carries a muted curiosity: “Yuri, are you interested in me romantically?”

The blonde snorts, seeming to take this as Beka joking. “You? Ewww. That's gross.”

“Yuri. I'm serious.”

Yuri pauses for a moment and peaks at Otabek with one eye, sniffing briefly to detect a bit more thoroughly how the Alpha felt, a seemingly-satisfied smile quirking his lips as he realizes that the other indeed _was_ quite serious. “Could be. Why do you ask?”

Otabek considers this for a bit of time. “I… I want to warn you not to become overly invested in me in that way, _Yuratcha._ ” It was rare, if unheard of, that Beka used this nickname for Yuri verbally. It did sound rather natural on Otabek's tongue… A good chunk of Kazakh-resident (Or once Kazakh-resident,) people spoke fluent Russian, and Otabek happened to be one of them. The nickname seemed to add an extra punch of thoughtfulness to Otabek's statement.

The scent on the air changes a bit, and Yuri feels himself warm in the face at the usage of this rather personal nickname, swallowing. “Why do you say that?”

Otabek is quick to respond. This conversation had not been un-thought about: The Alpha had felt things would veer in such a direction eventually… They were Alpha and Omega. They were around each other on a personal basis rather consistently, and though Otabek couldn't say at the time whether or not Yuri found him attractive, _he_ could not deny that Yuri was a very beautiful person, and though at times a bit obnoxious and self-absorbed, had a heart of gold. As such, he'd mused on what he might say should such a thing as romance ever come up.

“I am not emotionally stable enough to be a competent partner, for now.” Otabek explains rather simply, the statement followed by a tired, world-weary exhale of breath.

Yuri’s scent, which seemed rather strong that evening, read faint, held-in disappointment. Otabek makes note of this to himself.

“I understand...” Comes Yuri's reply, though the Omega inhales again, as if to speak, hesitating.

“Hmmm?” Otabek hums in question.

Yuri shrugs. “You are… You're a very good man, Otabek Altin. Different. I'm not sure how to describe you to people I talk to, when they ask about you, you know. Oftentimes, they think I'm seeing you, and ask if we've had sex and stuff- I want to tell them ‘He isn't like that,’, you know, but nobody would ever understand that. Because you're a smoking hot, single male Alpha, you must never stop fucking Omegas, right?” Yuri has to pause and chuckle, a moment of non-seriousness to ease the tensions weighing the air. “Must just be a possessive, aggressive, horny babymaking machine-”

“Yuri, stop it-”

“-That just bones the living fuck out of everyone and everything-”

“Yuri.”

The Omega meets Otabek’s gaze here, and something in the air changes again- Something stirs within the both of them, and before another second passes, Yuri has closed the space between them and locked lips with Otabek, one hand firmly in the Alpha’s close-cropped undercut, the other aggressively working under the older man’s shirt. This continues for a few _oh-so-fucking-good_ moments before the pair break lips for breath, Yuri holding one arm on the back of the couch for support- Halfway resting in Otabek's lap, halfway on the couch, slender legs draped sideways across the cushions. While they breathe, their gazes meet, foreheads resting on one-another, and Yuri feels a wave of understanding wash through him. The flicker of fear, of a frightened, scared young self hanging at the back of Otabek's eyes, behind the surprise, the hunger, the freshly-discovered want.

 

 _He'd been molested._ Yuri knew it. Otabek knew that Yuri knew it.

 

Otabek, unable to think about the slade of feelings rushing through him- White-hot licks of shame, embarrassment, fear- Reconnects their mouths with vigor. The Alpha scented everything anew, could smell Yuri, could actually, finally _smell_ him, his scent, his identity, and, most prominently, his very pressing need to feel every inch of Otabek, and had no doubt Yuri could scent him in return.

Otabek has little trouble shoving away any flashes of his past that threaten to surface- Yuri’s scent and entire _being_ kept him grounded in that exact moment, in Yuri nipping his lower-lip, in his hand tangled in the Omega’s curtain of perfect Harlow gold, in Yuri’s tongue pressing to his lips, letting known its intentions- They both tasted like booze and leather and _fucking need_ and it was indescribable in every language known to man.

 

Yuri’s hands were on him, exploring sculpted muscle without permission, he didn't need it- Otabek gladly allowed himself to melt into the Omega, his own hands beginning to wander, up lithe legs, gently-widening hips, timidly finding a rhythm. They were all instinct, and it was so, _so_ very different from any cold, greedy, horrible touch Otabek had ever been tormented with in the past, so very different from Otabek's fear-influenced expectations for intimacy.

Very different from Yuri’s expectations of intimacy as well… Otabek allowed the blonde every touch he desired, trusted _his_ instinct to guide them as well. So in contrast with any fucked-up Alpha-Omega sex stereotype…

 

Otabek lifts his arms a bit without breaking the heated tangling of their tongues, gladly offering Yuri the option of removing his shirt. Likewise, Otabek works at Yuri’s shirt…

And before long, both of their shirts are on the floor, another feeling of freedom as the increasingly hot skin of their chests, abs, everything can touch, and damned if Otabek didn't shiver due to the strength of their scents mixing, intermingling- Yuri had a goddamn _addictive_ smell, and Otabek could take it in now- Cinnamon and cardamom and cloves, spicy, hot, burning him up.

Interestingly, Otabek's scent was the calming counterpart to this- He was spearmint and cucumber and everything cool and refreshing in the world and it made Yuri draw back, feeling suddenly sensitive all-over. The Omega is in Otabek’s lap now, legs wrapped lazily around his middle, beautifully unmarked neck bared in a gesture that wasn't quite submission- Yuri would never so openly submit- It was _taunting_ , and it drove Otabek insane with fear and wild animal lust.

 

_Otabek couldn't control this. Couldn't control how he felt._

 

The Alpha leans in close, hands grasping at the other’s hips, and mouths over his left nipple… He has to fight down a flashback, here, inhaling deeply to keep himself grounded in the there, the now, in _Yuri_. Otabek closes his mouth around the sensitive bud of flesh and drags his tongue, broad and flat and merciless, over the area.

Hell if the cry of pleasure Yuri loosed didn't cause Otabek’s knot to swell then and there…

The Alpha looses a feral growl, a low, possessive rumble, the vibrations of which could undoubtedly be felt through his mouth on the blonde’s flesh. Yuri, curse the fucker, laughs breathlessly, and growls in return, rather impressively, _challenging._

It drives Otabek absolutely insane, and he breaks contact of his mouth on Yuri’s chest to gaze hungrily up at the smug Omega, a line of drool connecting Otabek’s wetted lips with the Russian’s nipple.

“ _Hell_ , Beka…” Yuri huffs with an easy, breathless laugh, their first verbal encounter since first kissing.

The Alpha laughs a bit in return… “I… I know…” He murmurs, mouthing playfully at Yuri’s abs as they catch some oxygen. Otabek meets Yuri’s gaze yet again to shyly ask, “Are you… Are you comfortable with all of this?”

Yuri snickers, rolling ocean irises. “Don't be such a gentleman. Really kills the vibe.”

Otabek smiles in satisfaction and resumes his hungry ministrations, this time on the opposite nipple, shivers electrifying him with every beautiful sound that leaves the Omega's lips.

Otabek was easily harder than he'd ever been in his life.

Yuri could relate.

After a moment more of the pleasurable suckling, Yuri pulls himself back and moves to work at Otabek's belt, before remembering- There wasn't one.

One less restriction.

Yuri raises his hips and hooks his fingers under the sides of Otabek’s sweats, looking to the Alpha’s eyes for a bit of confirmation. He finds it, of course, though also another hint of worry…

Otabek’s pants are down before long, only a single other garment separating Yuri and the Alpha’s _hung_ manhood.

Yuri had seen a few cocks in his life, but simply the outline of Otabek's through well-fitted boxer-briefs slickened his ass, his own arousal staining a dark area between the seat of his pants and his thighs.

Otabek appreciated the way Yuri stared, mouth somewhat ajar due to awe of what was in his pants.

 

Suddenly, in a split-second, a thought bubbles over in the back of Otabek’s mind, and claws its way to the forefront…

 

_This was how his disgusting father had once looked at him._

_With filthy, fucked-up hunger._

 

Without warning, Otabek pushes Yuri away from him and scrambles back against the couch, eyes clouded with disgust and shame and everything wrong.

Yuri quickly backs up, alarmed by the Alpha’s shove and immediate change in scent, demeanor, and breathing. _Fuck,_ he'd done something wrong, _fuckfuckfuck-_

“Beka, hey, Beka-” Yuri slowly inches back towards the other male, who looked absolutely panicked- Breathing rapid, eyes wide until he shut them tightly, the Kazakh curling into the corner of the couch, pulling his knees to his chest and hugging himself, covering his head with his arms.

“Otabek.” Yuri stiffly says, genuinely worried now. He places a tender brush of the fingers to Otabek’s forearm-

“ _DON’T.”_

Yuri scrambles back, falling on the floor, as if he'd actually been jabbed with a red-hot poker- Now in his own bubble of fear, gut churning. Otabek had snapped at him in _that_ tone-

Alpha voice, it was sometimes called. The tone that physically _forced_ an Omega to do as told by an Alpha. Outlawed in some parts of the world.

 

Yuri, after a few moments to recollect himself, gets to his knees on the floor, now a distance from Otabek.

He worriedly waits.

 

_This is your fault, Otabek Altin, and you know it._

_You ask for this, nasty, slutty boy. Don't wear those disgusting shorts in public ever again. Понимаю? Or we'll do this more often. Every hour, until you finally listen to your Папа._

 

_myfaultmyfaultallmyfaultwontdoitagainпaпaipromisepleasestopithurtsпaпaithurtsithURTS_

 

_Breathe in._

_Hold._

_Breathe out._

_Breathe in._

_Hold._

_Breathe out._

_Breathe in._

_Hold._

_Breathe out._

 

Otabek returns to himself after a good five minutes of choked sobs and wracked breaths. He forces himself to breathe deeply, focusing on the evenness of his breaths, for a good minute before finally moving out of his panicked posture. He rises shakily from the couch, eyes puffed from crying, and says nothing, does not look at Yuri, simply heads for the bathroom.

This time, he actually does vomit, retching the vile contents of his stomach out, rasping for breath, acid and alcohol stinging his esophagus for a few moments before Yuri is at his side with a glass of water, awkwardly kneeling and massaging the other’s still-bare back while Otabek gathers himself.

Otabek manages a pained smile of thanks, but cannot meet Yuri’s gaze.

_He'd ruined it. He'd ruined everything._

Otabek rises once more, as does Yuri, and the Alpha has a long drink of the water, until the glass is empty, his stomach rumbling. Otabek felt a bit less sickly.

It was four-thirty in the morning.

 

Yuri takes Otabek gently by the wrist, moving his mussed curtain of blonde, as per usual, to one shoulder, before guiding Otabek back to the couch and grabbing a pillow from the other end to set at the head.

“Lay down.” Yuri says simply, and Otabek does. He had a rather roomy couch, enough so that Yuri can easily and comfortably slot himself back against the other, the two laying on their sides, Otabek able to pull deeply on the other’s warming scent given his nose’s close proximity to Yuri’s primary scent gland, Yuri intentionally putting off soothing waves of Omega pheromones.

Otabek tiredly begins apologizing, “I'm sorr-”

“Be quiet.” Yuri silences the larger male, closing his eyes.

 

The two fade into the throes of perfect, dreamless rest in moments, Otabek so, so _immensely_ thankful that, if only for this particular night, he could hold someone close, someone warm, in his sleep, and be free of past ghosts.

 

**~***~**

 

The morning dawns before long, and passes the dozing pair by without a second thought. It is noon when Yuri wakes, the first of the two, Otabek still sound asleep, face buried in the Omega’s hair, inhaling his scent even whilst asleep.

The Omega has to lie awake for a good five minutes, head pounding, before he can even process that the night before was real, the only thing convincing him of this being the needy arms around his middle.

 

Fuck, he needed to message Viktor and Yuuri, and others, too… They'd be worried, given he practically disappeared for a night.

While being careful not to stir Otabek awake, Yuri fishes his phone from his pocket and turns it on, vaguely remembering the strange spam of Instagram likes that had caused him to shut it off the night before.

The phone buzzes to signal its awake-ness, and Yuri thumbs through it for a moment, staring in confusion at the screen.

The Omega’s mouth falls open, and he bolts up, most definitely disturbing Otabek.

“Holy fuck. _Otabek._ ”

 

_52 Unread Messages_

_19 Missed Calls_

_39 New Emails_

 

_kacykace and 423,984 others liked your photo._

 

**SoundCloud**

**Top 50 Chart**

 

_1._

Yuri Plisetsky-Otabek Altin / @ **yuri-plisetsky**

 **_In Your Mind_ ** _4:32_

 **** _58.7M plays_

 

 

**top twitter trends for United States now**

_7 minutes ago_

 

_#YuriPlisetsky_

_._

_._

_._

_._

_#OtabekAltinFanSquad_

_._

_#inyourmind_

_#SundayFunday_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we are!  
> Thank you _very_ much for reading, apologies for the delay, and again - Any questions, comments, kind criticism and thoughts for future writing are welcome!
> 
> _Until next time Xx_


	2. Uncertainty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear _goodness,_ am I sorry for the length of time that this chapter took to write. It has been quite frustrating - I have been mulling over and over on how to add interest to this particular chapter, as I felt that it was too short, or was missing some kind of event that would make it in-and-of-itself a good read. As an awful perfectionist, this stuck me to a sort of rut. After some time and re-reading, I came to the conclusion that a good story does not force each and every chapter to be interesting, but, rather, is a puzzle that ebbs and flows with its pieces.  
>  With that in mind, I present this chapter - Funny, this chapter is less than half the length of the former, and yet, took me a great deal longer to complete.
> 
> Thank you to all who left praise on the last chapter - You have no idea how very helpful this is to my motivation. I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

~***~

Time was a strange thing… Had a sense of humor. More often than not, lives only found drastic change overnight, or in a period of hours, minutes…

Yuri had never understood this more in his entire life. Overnight… Generic as the phrase sounded, nothing would ever be the same.

Evidently, Yuri and Otabek now had careers, a social following, and, dare they say the accursed word, money. At least, this was what the fifty-trillion-or-so calls that Otabek had been fielding for the entirety of the day seemed to indicate - Most consisted of record label representatives offering some kind of valuable long-term contract, _all_ of which Yuri had instructed Otabek, for the moment, to deny. Until they could, at least, formulate a sensible plan.

“We're literally fucking _famous_ , Beka.” Yuri had repeated this phrase in a sort of disconnected bewilderment throughout the afternoon. Everything was so… Odd. Neither had left the Alpha’s apartment - It was nearing six in the evening, and things were rather quiet. Otabek didn't own any pets, and the only venture outside of his apartment had been to fetch his Ducati from the club they'd visited not twelve hours before - Which, fortunately, had not been stolen. For how irritating the endless vibrating of their phones was (Yuri too had eventually silenced his own phone,), all seemed to be a subdued Monday spent at home.

Otabek had ordered a pizza for dinner. That evening, Yuri didn't work… As he had made a point of quitting his job only hours earlier, though Otabek had advised he wait.

 

Neither had yet spoken of the night before. This seemed only a gesture of respect on Yuri’s part… Otabek knew, for a fact, that the other had not lost memory through means of the alcohol they'd consumed, as he could see in Yuri’s eyes, more specifically in the way that they avoided his, that things had changed. A more concrete indicator, the Omega’s scent had a faintly acrid edge of guilt, as though Yuri felt responsibility for the prior evening’s trifles.

Otabek gave off a similar scent.

As soon as they had awoken, Yuri seemed to have given the Alpha space, for the ghost of the evening prior hung heavy on the air. Hadn't made legitimate eye contact since. Though the distance was appreciated…

Otabek had never felt lonelier in his life. He'd had the rarest of chances the night before, and had absolutely fucked it up. Completely, and entirely…

 

A silent glass shatters in the back of his mind.

 _‘Ты что-то испортил, ты идиот. Пойдем, папа должен тебя наказать._ ’

 

“We're going to make music, Beka. Full-time.”

“Maybe.”

Yuri’s mouth seems to fall open of its own accord.

“You're joking.”

 

Otabek says nothing. He knew in complete entirety what Yuri was asking him for... Music was a complex industry. However, when broken down to the careers of individual artists… The pathway was not difficult, even for those artists that found fame. In fact, their path tended to be rather more strict than that of a lesser-known musician. ‘Lesser-known’ seemed to be a term that wouldn't properly fit the current situation, either.

 

Otabek had never, not once, considered what he might do in the case that one of his productions with Yuri actually blew up, became… Popular.

Now that he was forced to… Otabek worried.

The Kazakh-native did not enjoy attention. Not in the slightest. He did not require it, and he most certainly did not wish for it. The sort of music career that could grow out of an overnight smash hit such as theirs… Was not one Otabek could imagine himself enjoying. The stress of having endless money, the pressure to continuously produce hit songs. He wasn't even sure he _could_ produce another song that would find success. The thought that millions had heard his production, already…

Otabek felt his gut tighten a bit. Simply the idea made him a bit nauseous, and yet, here they were.

 

“You know, people are only calling us with all of those offers because they want to make money.” The statement seems to come out a bit weak, as though Otabek knew he shouldn't even bother fighting Yuri on this particular topic.

“Because they see _potential_ in us, Beka.” Yuri dug into his third slice of deep dish as they spoke. Ever the hungry one Yuri was. Otabek had always found this quality more-than-a-little cute, though he certainly never would have admitted such a thing.

 

_To admit an action was cute would be to admit that Otabek still found attraction in others, and he had told himself for years that he needed to avoid that at all costs._

 

“Potential in _you_. I didn't make the song sound great. It was all you.” Yuri continues, when Otabek fails to respond.

Silence. Otabek was more than aware that he had done something right on the song. He'd be lost, however, without Yuri’s writing, ideas, guidance, voice…

 

Yuri tries again. “I bet we can get into a fucking bomb recording studio now… Awesome equipment, all that. If you made people like me on your own equipment, just, you know, imagine what you could do with multi-million dollar equipment…”

Otabek wouldn't hardly know how to use it all.

“...This is a hell of an opportunity. We can't just put it all off.”

 

They could. The song would die eventually, they'd collect the money from any streams they could wrack up.

 

Yuri pauses, has a drink of soda, pauses again to, for the first time that day, genuinely meet Otabek’s gaze. The Alpha looks down at his plate instinctively -

“Don't look away.”

The blonde’s tone is firm, though not without some gentleness, and Otabek forces himself to return his gaze to the Omega that he had unintentionally rejected the night prior.

Yuri’s face, generally sharp, sarcastic, or unreadable, is all concern.

“Do I need to shut up about it?” The to-the-point phrasing is characteristic of the blonde.

Otabek shakes his head.

Yuri quirks a brow jokingly, as if to say, ‘Don't lie.’

Otabek nods, just a little, lips being pulled into a smile. Yuri had a way of doing this to him - Dragging emotions that others would not see from the stoic Alpha into the clear.

 

“Alright. We can think about it later. Wanna’ watch a movie?”

The suggestion seems, to Otabek, immensely mundane, human, as though they hadn't been conversing all day about how to handle the several tens of millions of plays one of their songs had managed to wrack up and the handful of record contract offers that they had received.

Very… Friendly. Relaxed.

The Alpha nods his agreement, and before long, both are sprawled on Otabek’s couch… Which, Otabek noted, had acquired a rather sexual scent on account of their activities the night before. Otabek’s face warms a bit upon the dawning of this realization.

Yuri says nothing about it.

When would he, Otabek could not help but wonder…?

 

Yuri had chosen the movie - After he'd asked Otabek’s opinion and the other had simply shrugged in response - An older Bond movie. Yuri loved those… Overdramatic, unrealistic vintage American cinema, at its best.

The Omega had curled up in one of the many blankets populating Otabek’s living area couch. The thing was one of those velveteen blankets that had a silky feel to it, and it smelled to Yuri like absolutely _everything_ right in the world…

‘Everything right in the world’ hadn't said a word since the beginning of the movie.

Yuri allows his eyes to wander observationally over Otabek… Who, he decided, really was quite handsome, in a rough sort of way. Call it a sign of generic lovestruck behavior, but Yuri couldn't help being captivated by Otabek’s eyes. They were a deep, deep brown, gem-like in hue, holding a distinct… Pain. Otabek’s eyes lent him the timid, world-weary gaze of someone many decades his senior.

It was quite sad, really. Made Yuri want to cry. Hold the other. As a friend, lover… He hadn't yet figured out, nor, clearly, had Otabek.

 

Otabek doesn't turn to meet it, though it's impossible to miss the gaze trained on him.

Here it came, the conversation. About the night before.

Otabek feels the words slip before he can hold them in - “I'm sorry.”

Apologies. He was full of apologies. Millions and millions. Always had been.

 

_‘Не извиняйся, глупая детская шлюха, исправь проблему.’_

 

“Why?” The word was quiet, disarmed, and gentle, as the scent on the air between them was… And gave Otabek pause. What did Yuri mean _why?_

Otabek swallows. “I… Ruined… Things, last night, right? I did.” His mouth feels a bit dry.

Yuri exhales quietly, and silences the movie. Otabek looks to him, “Why’d you…?”

A pause, and their eyes meet, chilled ocean on dark, melty brown.

“Just… Talk to me, Otabek.”

“What about?”

“Whatever you need to. I'll listen, promise.”

The Alpha hesitates, and the silence is heavy.

“I messed things-”

“You didn't mess anything up. Sometimes, things just... They just happen, Beka. That isn't your fault. I blame you for nothing, and you have absolutely nothing to apologize for.” Yuri insists, cutting the other off. Though Yuri had said he would listen - And he had had every intention to… It was hard. Hard for him not to feel pangs of sadness, for Otabek, for what had happened to him. It was hard... Hard not to cut the other off, when he was apologizing so very genuinely for something that he had no power over, something no doubt very painful.

 

“Kinda… Yeah.” Otabek trails off.

 

“I'm always here, for you. Whenever you want.”

 

Otabek felt the urge to cry… He looked away.And yet, nothing came. It was the first time in a good while he had felt such a thing, having forced numbness upon himself for the better part of the time since he had left his past behind. A moment or two of weighted silence, after which, a firm knock… Or, rather, several of them, sound at Otabek’s door. Before the Alpha can stand, Yuri has, and motioned for Otabek to remain sitting. The blonde crosses to the door, an audible puff passing his lips as he spies just who had knocked.

Casting Otabek a bit of an eyeroll, Yuri allows a certain silvery-haired man and his quiet Omegan love into the apartment. Instantly, quick talking fills the room as the silvery-haired Alpha - Viktor, Otabek remembers - Embraces Yuri briefly. “What's going on? I saw on your Instagram and all that, thousands of people liked your pictures, you're trending and all that, I'm pretty sure there's a news article on you - Your song or something, it blew up, has anyone been calling you about it-”

 

While Yuri and Viktor blabbered away, the silvery-haired Alpha’s lover made his way to Otabek, and seated himself next to the other.

“You alright?”

The question seems to startle Otabek out of a thoughtful state, and his gaze fixes on Yuuri. “What?”

“Yuri said you weren't feeling well yesterday, when you went home. You're feeling better?”

Otabek nods passively, and his attention is brought back to Yuri and Viktor, who both have halted their speech expectantly.

Assuming the Alpha had missed something - Again - “What?”

Viktor repeats himself, seeing that Otabek has missed his question: “What're you two going to do, then?”

Yuri expected him to answer, here, for the question hadn't yet been answered, at least on Otabek’s part.

 

“I don't know.”

There is a moment of gravid silence, and Yuri speaks. “Music execs have been on us all day…”

Otabek nods.

Yuuri, quiet and thoughtful for a moment, offers a rather attractive idea. “You could always remain independent of a label.”

Viktor casts his Omega counterpart a glance. Evidently, he hadn't thought of this idea. A second of silence, then, “You manage yourselves or hire a manager, handle your own money, arrange your own promotion and such. It's… Usually thought to be the healthier route for an artist to take. Better for creativity. I might know a few people you could get in touch with for promotion and stuff, if you wanted.”

Yuri looks to Otabek, to Yuuri, and back to Viktor. Quirks a smile. “Wanna’ be our managers?”

Otabek is uncertain - Yuri had a tone that could be read as either joking or entirely serious… The Alpha personally knew little about either of these two men, nor of their experience managing anything, much less what could potentially be a massive musician - Pair of musicians.

Viktor cracks into a grin. “Why the hell not?”

Yuuri seems as uncertain as Otabek, in spite of Viktor and Yuri’s evident confidence in one another.

“You're hired.” Yuri jokes with a toothy grin, and grasps hands with Viktor. Otabek shifts on the couch a bit. Yuri made decisions with the quickest of manners… Something that insanely important, Otabek would have pondered on for some time.

Yuuri pipes up here - “We haven't heard this song yet. You should play it for us.”  Listening to their song… Even that much bothered Otabek. Before, sharing their stuff, he hadn't had an issue. A couple hundred people that he didn't know, listening to his stuff with Yuri. Now, though, when there were expectations of greatness…

 

~***~

 

Both Viktor and Yuuri seemed either shocked, dumbstruck, impressed, or all of the above. There is quiet, for a second, and Yuri appears a bit embarrassed as he withdraws his phone from Otabek’s stereo.

 

“It's really quite good, I think. It's quality, and unique, but has a kind of trendy flair, if that makes sense?” Viktor notes, looking to Yuuri, who adds his thoughts. “I thought it was very good also. It's got rhythm, the chorus is great, your vocals are very fluid and sustained-” Viktor coughs self-righteously, emphasizing that they’d had some hand in that, “-and you can tell it has some natural instrumentation added that gives it texture.”

Yuuri is hesitant in his next comment. “I'm… Surprised, that it caught so much attention. Not because it's bad, it's really great - It's just a little, _er_ \- Sexual, in a way that is very _Omega_ , you know? Popular music today doesn't have much respect for Omegas… You usually don't hear songs by Omegan artists that are sexual in tone on popular radio, or see those artists on the covers of magazines, you know? Not anymore, at least.”

Viktor visualized his agreement with a gentle nod of the head. “It _is_ very good, though. I understand how people could be so in-love with it. You both did a very lovely job. It's professional in quality and well-composed.”

 

Otabek was relieved - Although millions had already expressed their approval of the song, he'd still been unsure of what to expect. Yuri seemed to also appreciate the praising candor of his teachers, a bashful smile written into the Omega’s alluring face.

“Thank you.” Yuri says simply, and looks to Otabek, who dips his head graciously in thanks.

“Otabek - Send me the highest quality format file you can of the song… And we'll get it put on streaming services and iTunes, and all that for you when things are ready. That will be the catalyst, obviously - With the following you have going for you on SoundCloud and social media alone, it looks like you're primed for some serious attention. I don't think any advertising will be necessary at the moment, given how quickly things are moving… But we'll see how everything works out a bit down the line.”

Otabek nods… What other choice did he have, even in spite of the fact that the mere sound of ‘serious attention’ made him anxious?

Yuri seems to remember something… “Cover art. What will we do about that? We've just been using solid-colored squares on SoundCloud…”

 

Viktor blinks, seeming to have expected that the visual aspect of things would already have been thought about on their part. “Good question. Any idea what you'd like? Themes… Music videos would need to be a thing eventually. You probably had best begin to consider what themes you'd like to incorporate visually into your music… They probably had better factor into a later album, or mixtape, or whatever you're going for. Any ideas?”

Yuri seems a bit less blank in ideas than Otabek, whom had little to no thoughts in mind.

“Darker. Edgy, but not corny. Something that involves nature themes… I'm fine with things being a bit more on the odd side. Artsy, but with class-”

Viktor interrupts Yuri, an amused smile playing on his angular face. “Woah there.Breathe, tiger.” Viktor’s lover, from the couch, pokes his thigh to grab his attention. Both lock eyes, and Yuuri breathes a name - Chris - to which Viktor nods a confirmation.

“We know a photographer. Eccentric is likely the best way to explain him… Odd, but the style you're looking for is certainly something I'd trust him to do pretty well.”

Otabek inhales, then, “I don't want to be on it. “

Incredulous looks follow from both Yuri and Viktor, though not Yuuri.

“What do you mean you don't want to be on it?” Yuri interrogates, though he knew why. “It's as much your song as mine, if not more.”

Otabek shrugs, and, searching for an explanation, offers simply, “Not my thing.”

Yuri breathes deeply, as if to sigh - which he does not - and nods a complacent understanding. “Alright. Vik, how soon are you able to get in touch with this person…?”

Viktor thinks for a moment. “I could probably get something set up tomorrow. I'll text you details, alright?”

Yuri agrees. Before long, both Viktor and his partner are headed out - Before Yuuri makes his exit, however - “Otabek, go along with him. Might change your mind.” The Omega hesitates, then, with the subtlest of foxy smiles, adds, “Chris can be a bit… _Flirty_ , anyways. Might want to be there, just in case, you know.”

Both are gone, and Otabek is alone with Yuri.

“What was that supposed to mean?”

Otabek thought aloud as he looked to Yuri, who wore a smile that he attempted to conceal, and said nothing of it.

 

“Do you want me to head back to my place, tonight, or…?” The question catches Otabek off-guard, though he'd known it had been coming. Yuri spent a fair chunk of time at Otabek’s apartment, and there was no issue with this - Otabek had always allowed him over whenever the Omega desired.

“Your decision.”

Yuri knew what Otabek wanted him to say. He knew what he himself wanted to say…

It wasn't the right time. Not quite yet, it wasn't. Otabek needed space. Aside from this, Yuri’s heat, damn his biology, would come upon him soon enough. He was late as it was, and it would be irresponsible of him to remain around Otabek without properly suppressing.

“I'll have to head home, I think. I mean… I have to feed the fish and birds. I don't want to leech off of your fridge forever, anyways.” Yuri tries for a bit of humor here, though it is difficult to mask the sense of disappointment he felt in leaving the Alpha that he knew so well. It felt like an end to something, though they would see one another again soon. Otabek’s expression does not change, he simply nods, understanding and respectful as always.

“Thank you. For… Everything.” Yuri’s tender tone of voice and the touch he taps to Otabek’s hand endow the words with meaning, and Otabek meets his eyes, managing a half-smile and nod.

Yuri does not think twice - Before another moment can pass, he holds a hand to the Alpha’s cheek and leans in for a kiss. Otabek, realizing that he had been holding his breath again, exhales through his nose, eyes fluttering shut. He angles his head a bit and both begin a gentle movement of the lips, Yuri meeting his pace. From such distance, Otabek could scent the warm cinnamon-cardamom heat that lingered always on the Omega, particularly strong in nature this evening… Yuri was not far off his heat, and it was palpable on his scent. The contact is held for a handful of intimate moments longer, and then broken.

Yuri pauses afterward to briefly search Otabek’s expression, and finds his Alpha counterpart as thoroughly captivated by the moment as he was.

Yuri, with an uncharacteristically-bashful smile, looks away, and moves to slip into his worn jacket. He would hail a taxi home, hopefully manage not to be recognized by anyone in public (As this became a growing possibility with every moment that passed,) and, from there, would likely spend the remainder of the evening lost in thought on Otabek’s cocoa gaze.

Resisting the urge to press himself once more into the other’s kiss, Yuri murmurs a plaintive goodbye and slips away into the night.

 

After Yuri’s departure, the silence of Otabek’s apartment, all of a sudden, felt achingly lonely… Only worsened by the sweetly-pungent Chai spice that lingered on the air, a headstrong reminder of what was now missing - From Otabek’s sight, his lips, his embrace… And, Otabek’s body reminded him, with a welcome lack of torment regarding his past… His bed.

 

~***~

 

_“Yuri… **Yu** **ri…** I love you…” _

_“Beka… Dear fucking God, Otabek…_ _Please_ _…”_

_In vivid, ravishing color, Alpha and Omega made hot-blooded love._

 

~***~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it, folks. Thank you very much for reading, apologies for the delay, and again - Any questions, comments, constructive criticism and thoughts for future writing are welcome!
> 
> _Until next time Xx_


	3. Need (Piece 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cue long, dramatic inhale of breath from myself -
> 
> So, it's been a little while!
> 
> Cue sardonic laughter from reader - 
> 
> I've taken a good deal of time in forming this chapter. Several admittedly long breaks, unsure where to take this story, where I should be placing my focus at the present. A lot of revision and frustration. Initially, this chapter was intended to be far, far longer, but I have decided to split them in two, as adjoined parts. The next chapter is already a good deal underway, and, with luck, shall be posted within due time.  
> I heartily apologize for my absence. Thank you, if you are picking up where the previous chapter left off as an old reader, for your patience. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone that left kind notes on the previous chapters! Your encouragement is a blessing. As per usual, I hope that you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!

_“Yuri… Y_ _uri… I love you…”_

_“Beka… Dear fucking God, Otabek…_ _Please_ _…”_

_In vivid, ravishing color, Alpha and Omega made hot-blooded love._

 

_~***~_

 

Yuri awoke in a cold sweat at three-thirty that very night, underwear damp with slick and body overcome with a painfully familiar rush of sensations and feelings - His heat had finally decided to rear its ugly head, and at an obnoxiously improper time. Yuri, unfortunate as it was, underwent a rather perpetual hell when it came to that time of the month. He was not among the Omegas that bore their heats with grace… Generally, Yuri simply suppressed. It was no pleasant thing, needles considered, nor a cheap thing. _Fuck the pharmaceutical industry,_ Yuri often muttered under his breath when fronting the bill for his suppressants. _Fuck insurance, also, for refusing to act as though an Omega was worth their pennies._ To top it all off, it couldn't honestly be said that Yuri was in full mental faculty when under suppressant, nor that it was healthy for his reproductive system to continuously use said drugs.

And yet, it was still leagues better than wasting away into an incoherent pile of wanton sex craze, alone.

 

On another note, if a very sharp subconscious mind was a talent, and dreaming with the strongest of realness its sport, Yuri’s brain would be an Olympian furnished by many a gold medal… And if one positive thing could be found in the timing of it all, Yuri’s estrus-addled mind drove him into the most startlingly real of wet dreams, shameful as this was to admit.

Otabek, of course, had been the focus of this particular dream… Little more need be said to explain.

 _Suppressant…_ He needed to take his suppressant. It would allow him some peace, and a bit of sleep.

Shuffling into an upright position, Yuri touches the seat of the sweatpants that he had worn to bed, which he found to be, of course, soaked through with his arousal, goddamnit.

Rubbing at tired eyes, Yuri finds his way to his bathroom and, immediately, he brings himself off, as quickly and non-eventfully as he can manage. This was to release some tension, at least ease the shaking of his body enough that he'd hit the proper vein. Yuri then peels off soiled undergarments, soaking some warm water over a washcloth and proceeding to rub himself clean. Having a deep breath, he searches through his medicine cabinet and attempts to locate a clean syringe and vial of suppressant - It takes a minute, he was on his second-to-last vial, and another to properly measure the clear fluid given his shaking hands and difficult focus, but, eventually, he is able to inject his upper thigh with a half-dose (Yuri had found that it was better to dose in halves, as a full dose administered at once lasted for overall less time anyhow,) and toss the needle before searching out some clean clothing and dressing himself. The injection took effect nearly immediately once he began to walk on the leg, and Yuri felt the feverish shake and crazed heat in his gut relax as he climbed back into bed.

All was mostly well again… And Yuri was soon able to drift into a dreamless sleep.

 

The morning ghosted into being without much note - Yuri was able to rack up a few hours of extra sleep before his suppressant weakened and he was awoken by similarly annoying factors to those that had woken him the night prior.

The Omega stretches in a rather feline manner and has a glance at his phone - A voicemail.

“Hey, Yuri, it's Vik, I arranged for a quick photography session with our friend, one this afternoon, I'm sure you're still asleep at the moment. I can pick you and Otabek up then, if you'd like, and accompany you. His place is hard to find… Anyhow, call me or Yuuri whenever, let us know. Just not for an hour or two, you’re grouchy in the morning. Also - I have a _very_ interesting offer for you that I was contacted concerning. I'll tell you more later.”

Offer…

Yuri checks the time - Eleven. He had a bit of time to ready himself. He stank of his heat and of sweat, anyhow. Best clean himself up, make a good impression on whomever this photographer was.

 

A shower and an hour later and Yuri is clean and ready to go, administering himself another half-dose of suppressant before gathering his things to leave. He’d dressed rather sparely, assuming that whomever this photographer was would have some sort of plan laid out anyhow.

Before he can leave, however, his phone is buzzing, Otabek’s name flashing into view. Yuri picks up and puts the phone on speaker so that he can lace his combats.

“Beka. What’s up?”

Otabek seems in a bit of a rush. “I just woke up. Viktor says something came up with Yuri and himself, he wants me to take you. Gave me directions. That okay?”

“Course.”

“Do you want me to bring my bike, or…?”

“Why are you even asking?”

Otabek audibly huffs in amusement. “Alright. You’re ready to go?”

“About.”

“Okay. Give me fifteen and I’ll be there.”

Yuri nods to himself. “Can’t wait.” The comment lands somewhere between his usual snark and a lilt of sensuality, and the call is over.

 

A bit of time passes, and Otabek is at Yuri’s door, characteristically bare in dress as well, helmet in hand. He could scent the change. Subtle, Yuri was freshly-suppressing, but he knew the scent of his friend(?) well-enough to be able to detect what had taken place.

“You look…”

_Otabek chokes down a ghost in his ear._

“You look nice, Yuri.” He tries. It was courting, to be sure, and Yuri always looked rather ravishing in Otabek’s eyes, but the compliment was lost in the uncertainty of his voice.

 

“You’re precious, Beka. I look like shit.” Yuri leans into the Alpha for what was intended to be a polite kiss to the cheek, but played out more as a lingering appreciation of Otabek’s neck, Yuri suddenly and unbelievably entranced by the lusciously-chilly, delicious scent that emanated from the other. He felt a nearly-undeniable urge to melt into Otabek, to lick all over him, be enveloped by the minty-cool of a ravishing Alpha’s smell. _This_ Alpha.

Otabek froze, rather unsure of how to feel as Yuri nosed at the juncture between his neck and collarbone, where one of the primary scent organs was located.

Yuri glances upward, and is broken from his trance-like nuzzling upon realizing that he might have been freaking Otabek out more than just a bit.

 

“Fuck, god, I’m really sorry. It’s that time…” Yuri felt his face grow hot with embarrassment. Normally, he took no issue with his anatomy. He’d been a bit disappointed, initially, when he’d first presented, though he had come to fine terms with who he was. People treated him like shit at times, fine. He could deal with that well and good enough. How annoying it was, however, when controlling his behavior became difficult on account of his heats… Earlier in his life, when heat had been even more taxing on the Omega, he’d wanted to have his uterus removed when he grew old enough - Of course, this had also been when Yuri had been hard-set on never having pups.

Embarrassed at his behavior, Yuri thought back to those times now.

 

Otabek wasn’t at all sure what to make of this. Confusion, concern… Concern for Yuri, confusion as to why the Omega was so suddenly drawn to his scent, when he had always been very able to keep his heat in check around the Alpha.

In the end, Otabek simply nods a bit and offers a look of concern for the other. “It’s alright. Are - Are you going to be okay? Do you need to reschedule whatever this is?”

Tempting though it was, Yuri had business to be done. He shakes his head, blinks, hard. He felt… Fogged, drowsy. Shockingly, drugged. What a blessing suppression was.

“Please. Being an Omega doesn’t make me a bitch, Beka-dearest.” Yuri’s hardened exterior is reinstated, and he takes the helmet that Otabek had brought for him - Solely so that he did not have another fit like that, given that he’d be holding tight to the other’s back, rather near his neck.

 

“Yuri…”

The word caught in Otabek’s throat as the blonde turned back in question. He’d started with the intention of calling the Omega back…

But what could he say? What was there to say, to an Omega so headstrong, determined as this one?

_Just stay home, rest._

_It isn’t safe for you to be out when you’re like this._

That wouldn’t be right. Couldn’t be.

It wasn’t Otabek’s place to worry about him in that manner, was it?

 

And... Otabek could protect him, anyhow, if needs be…

 

_“You can protect yourself, Ota-bee.”_

_Otabek’s mother was the sheltering sort. The type of person that stood between you and was kicked so that you didn’t have to be._

_“You really are strong. My strong little Ota-bee. Buzz buzzzzz…”_

_Otabek smiled, just a little, but didn’t say anything. He loved his mother, and hated her all the same. He loved that she would comfort him, like this, when.. When that happened. Because, though he was young, Otabek knew well that she withstood the worst of it all, and it made him feel special that she had the room in her heart to try to take care of him even after all that happened._

_He hated that she stood between him and his father. It hurt as much, if not more, than simply being hit himself._

_He hated that she had stayed._

_Stayed until she couldn’t bear it any longer..._

_How?_

_Otabek, at twenty-three, still asked himself that question._

 

And so, after a second and a forced half-smile, Otabek looks away and moves for his bike. “...Just hold on tight.”

 

**yuri-plisetsky**

 

 _Picture day~ @_ **_OtabekAltin_ **

 

Yuri chuckles a bit. Otabek had an awful habit of never being prepared for the pictures he took, and as such, always looked very… In the moment, if you will.

 

The photographer - Chris - Was located quite a ways out of the city, and it took Otabek several wrong turns and a few minutes of cursing irritably at his phone’s GPS before they’d arrived. The building was enclosed in a small grove-area forested with an assortment of pines, and the only giveaway was a small sign and a slender brick road leading into the forested area. The road was just a bit slick in places, winter upon them, though it had thus far been quite kind this year. Otabek navigates these areas with a little more caution.

Yuri took a moment to appreciate the scene around him… Trees this dense were rare in the city, the location truly couldn’t be more photogenic.

Of course, the man he held tight to offered much to admire as well - Yuri loved being on rides with Otabek, able to wrap his arms around the Alpha’s sturdy middle, rest his head on the other’s back as vivid forest scenery sped by.

Otabek, much to his surprise, felt little anxiety about having Yuri hold to him this time around. Had it been anyone else, of course, this would be a different story, but…

 

The studio building itself was astoundingly lavish in a minimal sort of way, all sharp angles, glass, concrete, and polished steel. Certainly had a very stately, important feel to it.

Otabek searches out one of the few available parking spaces and kills the motor before he dismounts, kicks down the stand, and helps Yuri, a good bit shorter than he, to the ground.

The Alpha took one look at the building and didn’t like it. He hated modern architecture. Sharp angles, too sterile. Made him uncomfortable.

 

The interior was as obnoxiously cleanly and modernist as the exterior, Otabek thought. A receptionist - Overly young thing - Was their first conversation upon entering the building. The studio was quiet and only a few people seemed around, but the place had an energy, a buzz.

“You two are the one o’clock appointment, correct?” She asked with a warm smile, to which Yuri nodded.

“Mr. Giacometti is working on something and is going to be a bit late. Probably no more than fifteen minutes, and the both of you are welcome to have whatever you’d like while you wait.”

The girl gestures to a small waiting area supplied with various snacks and a very complex coffee-maker. Yuri thanks the girl and drags Otabek over to the coffee machine.

 

About twenty-five minutes and a tall, thirties-ish bleach blonde with a rather pretty face approaches and seats himself beside Yuri, looking keenly over the Omega, who proceeded to focus more intensely on the magazine he had in hand, uncertain.

“Pretty face…” The man notes, in a manner much more observatory than flirty. “Lovely hair. Omega, unquestionably.”

Otabek eyes the man for a moment, before questioning, in a very even, if guarding tone of voice, “And who might you be?”

The older man glances over Otabek now. “Handsome…Works out, but not obsessively. You smell… I don’t know. Either Alpha, or Beta with a very exquisite cologne.” A pause, then, “Christophe Giacometti. Just Chris, though, is more than fine, given you are both friends of Vik and Yuuri.”

 

Yuri returns his magazine to the underbelly of the coffee table that he’d attained it from and offers a bright smile. Businesslike, professional. “Lovely to meet you then, Chris. I trust you’re good with your craft, Viktor and Yuuri seemed pretty quick to jump to you when we were discussing photos-“

“Oh, really? Nice to hear. I heard you’re both musicians, yeah? Vik said you have a song that’s pretty popular at the moment.” Chris’s voice carries conversational intrigue. He’d worked with a few musicians in the past, though not of immense popularity. His work was more involved with models, fashion, marketing and the like.

Yuri looks to Otabek, smirking in his obnoxiously Yuri-ish manner. “You could say that, I guess.”

Chris hums with interest, “How very interesting! I shall be certain to make the shots look stunning, then.” He pauses, stands, and gestures for the both of them to follow his lead. “Not, of course, that any image taken by me would ever be anything _but_ stunning.”

  


Though Otabek only really looked on, it seemed that photoshoots could actually be quite fun. Yuri seemed to be having an enjoyable time, and looked, in a word Otabek would never use himself to describe Yuri, delicious.

Chris had a stylist on hand that had braided a handful of intricate pleats into a few small parts of the Omega’s hair, even weaving them with minuscule clusters of bright red flowers or twig-groupings that had been spray painted a platinum color. The assistant, a timid though clearly talented young girl that couldn’t be much above eighteen, had dusted his face with a kind of iridescent silver highlight. Nothing other than this had been done in terms of Yuri’s face. He’d been given a sort of shimmery, holographic platinum silk robe for the shots - Probably quite expensive. Not obnoxiously-revealing, but certainly a very sensual garment in the way that it fell on Yuri’s form and drew the eye. Neither obnoxiously feminine nor masculine, it was very fitting.

The studio itself was quite high-tech, with lighting capabilities that amazed Otabek. Chris had manipulated a plain white background with a sort of projection, dimming the lighting and casting shadows behind Yuri that suggested a tropical forest. A spotlight made sure that Yuri’s form was front-and-center in the field of vision, and caught the shimmer of his face and clothing perfectly.

All-in-all, Yuri looked, Otabek thought, like some sort of futurist, high-fashion elven forest prince.

 

He was… Rather exquisite. It brought a ghost of a smile to Otabek’s face.

 

Chris wasn’t really directing Yuri into any particular posture or pose, and so Yuri lowered himself to his knees, barefooted on the solid white floor, and gave the camera one or two intimidating glares.

All-in-all, the shoot didn’t take too long at all, Chris seeming rather satisfied with the handful of shots he’d gotten. Before the scene can be deconstructed, however, Yuri looks to Otabek.

“This song is yours too, Beka. Come be in the pictures with me.”

Otabek shakes his head immediately. He became anxious enough having pictures of himself on Yuri’s social media, much less being on a professionally-taken image that could potentially be viewed by thousands of thousands, maybe more.

Yuri tries again. “Well… Here, how about this. Just let me use your arm, and the rest we can crop out. You should be included somehow.”

Otabek, a bit uncertain of what Yuri had in mind, doesn’t say anything.

“Please?”

Yuri’s voice isn’t pleading, but has a tone to it. A certain kind of tone… That made Otabek’s heart flutter in a strange way.

Reluctantly, the Alpha stands, and approaches the blonde with a look of question. Yuri smiles, pleased. “Just roll up your sleeve a ways.”

Yuri took gentle hold of Otabek’s bare left arm, the Alpha having to kneel so that he can do so. As Chris begins photographing, Yuri opens his mouth just a little and gently sucks at the tips of Otabek’s fingers in a, for lack of better phrasing, rather provocative manner. The action would not be so very effective on Otabek were it not for the rather keen eye contact that the Omega held with him.

The gaze within Yuri’s eyes was frightening- It was hungry, _starving_ , it made Otabek’s breathing weighty, caused a distinct weakness in his knees and made his gut churn with a strange, carnal feeling that he hadn’t _ever_ experienced. Never.

He felt like he could _melt_ under eyes like that, and he’d never been so blissfully distant from the lingering traumas of his hideous past than that moment. The feeling was kind of spiritual.

 

“ _Awwww_.” Chris’s bemused voice brings the pair back to themselves, and his assistant seems to stifle a chortle as Yuri and Otabek look towards them. Yuri snickers shamelessly and rises, the photoshoot very clearly at its end. “I’m going to go get changed out of this stuff, alright?” Yuri says, and heads for the studio door. Chris nods. A red-faced Otabek follows, and once the photographer and his assistant are comfortably out of earshot, Yuri has a glance back at his Alpha counterpart.

 

“Beka?”

“Hmmm?”

“You’re hard.”

 

~***~

 

Home. Or, rather, Otabek’s home. Viktor had waited patiently, intent on delivering them the piece of rather juicy news they direly needed to hear.

“You’ve been offered a spot on one of those evening shows. To perform, be interviewed, and help host that night’s show.”

Yuri blinks. “Come again?”

“Saturday Night Live, Yuri. Otabek as well.”

Yuri Plisetsky had never before felt as simultaneously shocked and amazed as he did then. Otabek, in contrast, felt only shock and the building itch of anxiety.

“You’re serious?”

Viktor nods. “They were hoping that you’d be able to perform a couple weeks from now - Give you time to prepare, you know.”

After a moment of ponderance, Yuri suddenly bursts into joyous laughter, the Omega grinning from ear to ear. “That’s amazing! Really, really awesome, Viktor…” Yuri wraps his arms tightly around the older man. “Thank you.”

Viktor nods, and hesitantly embraces the blonde. “Otabek, how… How do you feel about that?”

Otabek’s thoughts wandered. Could he do that? He hadn’t ever performed for anyone but Yuri before, and the concept made him intensely anxious. There were infinite ways in which that could go wrong, after all…

As Yuri’s gaze turned on Otabek, the Alpha knew how this would work. Yuri’s eyes would meet his, and he’d find himself unable to refuse-

“You don’t have to if you don’t feel like you are able to, Beka.” Yuri is very clear in this first statement, voice collected and caring, “But I would be very grateful if you would.”

 

Otabek exhales gently. How could it be so difficult to tell one person no…?

Viktor turns, and picks up his things. “I’m going to head out, then. Take some time to think it over. Don’t feel like you absolutely have to take the offer. I understand if it’s a little sudden. I simply thought you both would be interested by the opportunity.”

Yuri thanks Viktor once more, and the gray-haired Alpha is gone. Yuri and Otabek are alone once more.

 

It takes no more than a solitary moment for the smaller male to enrobe Otabek in a tight, loving embrace. The Alpha hesitantly returns the embrace, any nerves calmed by the other’s sugary, spicy Omega pheromone. His warmth was intoxicating. “Isn’t that fucking exciting?” Yuri murmurs into Otabek’s neck, pulling back and slipping the other’s hands, large and sturdy, into his own.

Otabek nods, just a little, gaze troubled. Spying this, Yuri offers a comforting smile, swinging his counterpart’s arms. “You want to do it with me, then…?”

 

Uncertainty could be stated to be the most prevalent reason that Otabek acted and conducted his life in the way that he did. When young, a million what-if’s ran through his mind on the daily. Otabek spent the majority of his time hidden away in his bedroom. He didn’t play with friends, didn’t always attend school.

Anxiety drove his every action. That scar stayed with him, even into his very-much-safe, calm adult life. His gut told him no, he absolutely could _not_ do this, he couldn’t perform, what if he messed up, Yuri would be angry with him, others would laugh at him, he could ruin Yuri’s prospective career, what if, what if…

 

“Beka.”

Yuri’s voice is collected, and a tender squeeze of the hands reminds Otabek of just where he was, who he was with. Realizing he’d been slipping off into his own world yet again, the Alpha has a deep breath. “I’m okay.” He insists, reaffirming himself as much as Yuri.

The Omega nods gently. “What do you think, then? Would you… Like to try?” Yuri tries once more, and instinctively thumbs little circles into the palms of Otabek’s hands.

 

A nod. It’s faint, but it is there, and it makes Yuri immeasurably happy. Once more, he hugs Otabek. “Thank you.” He says, quietly, and nuzzles the older male’s neck.

Otabek closes his eyes, and, for the first time in a good, long while, he feels a warm rush of happiness overcome him. He tightens his hold on the beautiful person in his arms, and Yuri makes a noise. “Oi, don’t squish me- Hey-“ Otabek laughs at this, genuinely, really laughs, and only tightens his hold on the other, lifting Yuri a little bit of a ways off his feet.

 

Though he may have been halfway suffocating, Yuri Plisetsky was happy. His career was suddenly taking off, and he was going to be accompanied in that by a talented, brilliant man whom he adored.

When Otabek finally releases Yuri, who stumbles back a bit, the pair meet each other’s eyes, and both break into hopeful smiles.

“We’re going to be brilliant.” Yuri says, and it is a statement, not a question.

Otabek nods his agreement, and, tired, finds himself yawning.

Yuri makes note of this. “Perhaps we ought to part ways, get some rest.” The Omega suggests, to which Otabek seems to agree. “I wish I could spend the night, but…” Yuri is very lightly suggestive here, and it is obvious what the implications of his statement are.

Otabek looks away bashfully, nods. It takes a bit of courage, but, “I… Wish you could, too.”

 

Yuri seems impressed, very much so, at his counterpart’s bluntness. The Otabek of a week before would never have been so bold as to express this.

Yuri wanted, deep down, to offer Otabek his company for the remainder of the day, and night. He knew, however, what this would entail. Yuri’s suppressant would cycle itself away, he would turn to a writhing mess of wanton Omega need, and would beg for Otabek to mate with him. It would be embarrassing, inappropriate, and uncomfortable for the Alpha, and so, though Yuri wants it to his core, he files away his desire for the time being.

Or, rather, attempts to file away his desire.

Yuri enfolds Otabek in an embrace of parting, and brushes his lips to the juncture of the Alpha’s neck. The scent thereof was heavenly as ever, and it assuaged somewhat the fire that burned in the Omega’s body.

Otabek flinches, ever-so-slightly, instinct first telling him to fight off the touch, that physical contact could only hurt him. He forces himself to breathe, and to return the embrace, even as Yuri mouths at his neck, and he finds it in himself to enjoy the contact, to linger on the tingle of this gorgeous young man's kiss, and especially… Yuri’s scent. Good lord, his _scent…_

Otabek had relatively desensitized himself to the scents of others, since his youth. Developed… A selective nose, if you will. Smells, scents of Omegas, and especially fellow Alphas, they bothered him. He felt insecure… Alphas, their scent caused him nervousness, invoked confrontation. Omegas, they caused him to feel desire, and even if it was quite involuntary, Otabek still felt a strange guilt. He hated to think that he had the bodily capability to objectify another -

Rather like he had been, once.

But Yuri, _his_ scent, however, brought a reaction from him entirely new… Otabek was awash with calm, by Yuri’s pheromone. It was, as aforementioned, a truly lovely, sweet, warming scent, spice and sugar and wood - Cinnamon, chile pepper, cedar, but all with energy, a fizzy effervescence, and it grew stronger by the minute as Yuri’s suppressant drew itself thin. Notable at all, that Otabek could sense Yuri so strongly, that he couldn't turn Yuri’s presence... Off. It wasn't solely that Yuri was in heat, either, Otabek having noted a bit of a sensitivity to the Omega’s odour far earlier in their relationship.

 

Yuri, a bit suddenly, perhaps oversteps boundaries somewhat, instinct taking him as he dares to suck, just a bit, on the skin that guarded Otabek’s upper scent gland, which laid between the juncture of the Alpha’s neck and shoulder. The Omega feels heat begin to collect in his groin. Suppressant could only suppress so much, after all, and he needed a fresh dose.

Otabek twitches with surprise as he feels tooth and tongue graze the hyper-sensitive skin of his scent gland. “Y… _Yuratchka.._ What are you…? _”_ Yuri’s Alpha counterpart shudders, and draws him closer, a hand wandering down the small of the Omega’s back.

Yuri, after a moment, pulls back, a sense of guilt drawing him away. As much as he would have loved to devour Otabek, to ravish the Alpha with every bodily pleasure he could physically provide… As intensely as his body desired the Alpha, Yuri had to force himself to practice restraint. He had to force himself to be cognizant of Otabek’s discomforts with touch and-

 

Otabek dips his head a bit, and returns the gesture with vengeance. The Alpha’s mouth laps hungrily at the blonde's upper neck, teeth grazing gently the thin skin and the stiff flesh of the gland underneath. Yuri inhales sharply in surprise, and the pair back up against the wall of Beka’s apartment, the Omega’s body hitting with a gentle thud.

Otabek’s heart beats at hummingbird pace as he sucks, licks, nibbles on the younger male. His Alpha instincts, long-surpressed, told him to claim Yuri, that it was the perfect chance, neck exposed, in the throes of heat… Though Otabek would never have such boldness, nor stupidity, least not in his present, generally conscious state. The bond of an Omega and Alpha was no light matter.

The touch and motion of their bodies was both exhilarating and terrifying, and though anxiety bloomed hot in his belly, Otabek’s entire body wanted more.

“B… _Beka…”_ Yuri croons, the name barely audible, a feathery whisper that conveyed need, confusion, concern, and fifty other emotions at once. Hands wander, Otabek’s finding their way to Yuri’s lower back and hips, Yuri’s to the Alpha’s chest. Surely, Otabek had to realize that, if he kept this up, Yuri’s suppressant would quickly wear itself thin, his body would overtake the barrier, and he would go _under_ …

The Omega bears his neck ever more needily, and the heady spice of his reproductive pheromone begins to radiate forth from him.

Otabek scents this, and feels blood rush to his groin. Forcing himself away from the Omega’s neck before he becomes tempted to bite, Otabek meets Yuri’s gaze. The blonde’s irises had dilated a bit, but he was still predominantly himself.

“Why… Why did you stop?” Yuri asks, an edge of absent need to his voice.

Otabek is quiet for a moment, growing red in the face. “I'm sorry, I'm really sorry…” Otabek admonishes, guiltily, backing away, body language tensing. He felt quite horrible, realizing that he'd allowed his instincts to overcome him, and the dark-haired male’s breathing becomes a little more labored. “I shouldn't have done that, I shouldn't have done that, I shouldn't have-”

 

_He was touching Yuri, he didn't ask to touch Yuri, he'd done something like his father, he was becoming his father -_

 

Yuri takes a moment to understand, mind a little hazy as his heat began to regain its creeping hold on him. As soon as he does, however, the Omega quickly shakes his head, coming to a realization of what was happening. “No, no, it's okay-” Yuri rushes forward, and takes Otabek’s hands in his own. The Alpha jerks in an attempt to get away, at first, but Yuri holds strong, and, with as much firmness as he can manage, the Omega speaks. “ _Look at me._ ”

Otabek’s gaze snaps upward, and the pair lock eyes.

 

Yuri raises a hand, and cups the taller man's cheek, searching Otabek’s eyes. His tone is level and as soothing as he is able to manage. “Breathe. Calm down, please. It's alright. You did nothing wrong. I allowed you to touch me.” Yuri gently guides the other’s hand down to his hip. “See? It's alright. You're not doing anything wrong, I'm perfectly okay with it.”

Otabek breathes, deeply, focusing his attention entirely on the young Omega holding him steady. He nods, inhales. “I'm sorry.”

Yuri looks up at Otabek with disbelief. The Omega wanted to scold him something mean for that, to tell him how unnecessary it was to apologize for such things…

“Don't. It's alright.” Is all Yuri thinks necessary to say. Before Otabek can speak, Yuri presses their lips together once more, gently, and he gives Otabek space to pull away if he should want.

 

Otabek feels his stomach flutter with emotion. He was a roiling mass of emotion…

_How did he deserve something so precious in his life, all of a sudden?_

Yuri moves with all of the slowness and deliberacy he can muster, as though he might frighten Otabek away if he moves too suddenly. Yuri allows the Alpha to control their pace, and though slow and cautious, the kiss is intimate, and… Wet?

Otabek was crying, just a little.

Yuri pulls away, and meets the Alpha’s gaze once more.

 

Otabek feels fingertips tenderly brush away his tears. Butterfly fingertips… Yuri, who kept his softness under lock and key, was being, in every way possible, gentle with him.

 

Yuri smiles, and pecks Otabek’s lips again. He didn't understand, but he understood.

If that made any sense.

“You're so fucking gorgeous, you know that, Beka?” Yuri says, and pecks the Alpha’s lips a third time. Otabek chuffs with laughter, rolling his eyes a bit.

“Hush.” Otabek says shortly, and though he was teary, his heart felt… Happy.

Yuri chuckles, and moves once more to nip at Beka’s neck.

The tension in the taller males body resolved, Otabek angles so as to allow the Omega better access to his neck, and exhales calmly.

“Let me rub your back, Beka.”

“What?”

“I want to rub your back.”

It was random, perhaps alarmingly so, but… Yuri said it with such a lilt of innocent sensuality, it would have been difficult to refuse.

“Alright.”

A moment of pause, and Yuri taps Otabek’s shoulder. “Which means you have to strip, dummy.” The Omega says, with an air of amusement.

Beka nods, feeling a bit embarrassed, and sits on his couch, ridding himself of his shirt. He casts Yuri an expectant gaze. Truth be told, he'd never had his back rubbed.

Yuri resists the pressing urge to chuckle, and grabs a pillow for Otabek from a nearby armchair. As Otabek lays on his belly, Yuri admires the man’s form… Though shy about it, and chock full of his own quirks, Otabek was an undeniably attractive Alpha.

The Omega gently climbs atop the other and settles himself on Otabek’s lower-back, a knee resting on either side of him. Yuri hoped that this wasn't uncomfortable, though he was light enough that he doubted it was. He was, clearly, not trained in massage, but was more than aware of what felt good and what didn't. Yuri begins by dragging the very tips of his fingers up and down Otabek’s back & sides, as lightly as he is able. He follows this with carefully-placed scratching.

 

“Can I rub your back too, Yuri?”

“Hush.”

The Alpha laughs, softly, at this, and his eyes eventually flutter shut. A handful of minutes pass, Yuri focusing solely on the man underneath him, on his body, his reactions, the twitch of each individual muscle under Otabek’s light caramel complexion. _Fuck… Yuri wanted to know the feeling of being mounted by this man._ The ransom thought was not simply a product of his returning heat, though this certainly had play in it.

Before too long, things are so quiet, the Alpha’s breathing so even that Yuri has to question if he has fallen asleep.

 

“Beka?”

“Mmmm?”

“Can I suck you off?”

 

Yuri wants to take the words back even as they leave his lips.

 

“What?”

“Can… I… Nevermind, nevermind.” Yuri thinks about asking once more, but retracts the statement, cheeks warm. Neither he nor Otabek say anything for a moment, and the Omega rises. “I'm going to get a drink.” Yuri says, and hops off of his taller counterpart. Without looking at Otabek, Yuri moves to the kitchen, and fills a glass.

_What the fuck were you thinking, Yuri Fucking Plisetsky -_

“Do you… Want to?”

Otabek. Yuri swallows a mouthful of tap water, and looks at the other, trying to read him. “What? Want to… What?”

 

Otabek’s eyes shift away, and his gaze wanders intently over the linoleum of his kitchen floor. “Please don't make me say… That.” Otabek says softly, and steps a little closer to the Omega. It takes some effort to make the advance of his own accord, but, cautiously, Otabek takes Yuri’s hand into his own.

_“I think you're painfully beautiful, and you've made me happier in the last handful of days, weeks and months than I've been in a long while. I'm fucked up, in the head, but… You help me feel that I'm not.”_

 

~***~

 

“I think you're painfully beautiful, and you've made me happier in the last handful of days, weeks and months than I've been in a long while. I'm fucked up, in the head, but… You help me feel that I'm not.” Otabek tries. Perhaps not the most eloquent phrasing of words he'd ever formed, but, to be fair to himself, it had been a while since he'd expressed such open emotion. “...And I know that you're in heat, and that you can't continuously suppress, or at least that you shouldn't, for your health. I know you always do, when you're around me. I don't know how you usually work through it, but, if - Well, if you wanted me to… Only if you wanted! I'd be okay with trying to help you, in that way, so that things aren't so - Er - hard, for you.” Otabek inhales deeply, exhales. It had been phrased all-wrong… He sounded uncertain, as though he didn't _want_ what he was _asking_ for. He had either fucked up, royally, or -

 

~***~

 

Yuri admired Otabek. He always had. For his musical skills, for the manner in which he conducted himself. At the present, he admired the courage it must have taken the Alpha to say that.

The blonde thinks for a moment, has a contemplative drink of water, and searches Otabek’s weary, shy gaze. Yuri could be offended. It was an intensely forward thing of anyone to offer him, most certainly a forward thing of _Otabek Altin_ to offer. But… Yuri wasn't. Of course, for Otabek to say such things was absolutely sudden, gutsy, out of character, and Yuri knew for a damned fact that Otabek was entirely unsure of himself… Yuri could scent it. The air was heavy with Otabek’s tension, his nervousness. Underneath it all, Yuri could sense, however, an undercurrent of want. It was faint, and strained, but it existed.

From most any other, Yuri would have thought Otabek’s words blasé, ingenuine, self-righteous - Yuri was not an injured animal in need of a savior. He did not _need_ to be _seen through_ his heats, though he had, in the past, taken Alphas for company, to ease the pain thereof. It was better, he felt, than the unnatural numbness of constant suppression every month. (Notably, Yuri had only ever partaken in oral sex with others - He'd always had some level of composure and foresight as to save himself, at least in that way, for the individual with whom he wished to share a bond.) Of course, Otabek speaking it gave the words different value. They became genuine… And, if Yuri thought on it, he could recognize that Otabek did, as far as he was aware, want good for him. He'd seen it consistently, as Beka consciously respected his heats and the - inconvenience - which they involved. Not once had he been reprimanded for the difficulties his biological persuasion brought up, not even when he had, earlier in their times spent together, sent Otabek into mental-emotional distress by coming into his heat suddenly, whilst they'd been working on music, and bringing the expected trainwreck of pheromonal power with him. This was prior, of course, to Yuri coming to be aware that Otabek was rather sensitive to volatile sexual situations.

 

That point exactly was another part of why Yuri found Otabek’s offer, though timid and out of the blue… And a simple offer to see him through his heat… Valid. Otabek was not a weak man, and Yuri absolutely would not see him as such. He was, however, hurting. Otabek’s trauma could not have made itself more clear in the manner that he had been, quite literally, overtaken with fear, when he'd seen, or remembered, whatever he had during their first intimate encounter. And it said… Something strange, and wonderful, and indicative, that he wanted to try, with Yuri, to, in a way, overcome that. It made him feel a tiny flutter in his gut - Maybe, Otabek did genuinely want him. They _could_ be more.

 

“You're _okay_ with having sex with me, or you _want_ to have sex with me?”

To the point, as always.

Otabek is quick to respond, the question didn't even require second thought, “I want to, of course - I mean, you know, I really do care about you, and… I want to know you better, and spend more time with you, too. I just was offering, if you want. You'll… Have to be patient, you know, if I start to, uh.. Spaz, and I'm…” Deep breath, here - “... I'm a virgin, sort of.. I don't have any experience, really… Anyway, if you need me, the offer is there.” Otabek tries a little smile, here.

 

Yuri looks at him. Thinks.

But… Why now?

He had very little idea. Otabek was the quietest of quiet, unusual for an Alpha in his prime. Yuri hadn't known him for an extremely long extent of time, but he'd gathered much about the other in the time they'd spent together. Otabek’s reservation was key to his character, and his history. The man had been abused at some point, for fuck’s sake, and it took no genius to understand this. Very likely sexually abused, to the point that he had psychological attacks.

And so, why? Why would he offer himself to Yuri, in that way?

Surely, it couldn't be because he felt that he owed Yuri. Still, the thought bothered the Omega, and so, he bears what is on his mind: “You aren't saying that all just because… You feel like you owe me something, right?”

 

Otabek blinks. He couldn't exactly pinpoint what part of him had thought it wise to ask such things of the Omega, so very suddenly, nor did he understand why Yuri spoke as though _he_ would be the one asking something of _Otabek._ He could smell that, too. On Yuri. That the Omega felt… Not quite guilt, but something close. Otabek feels a bit of dread, at that. An odd sense of not-quite-rejection. It made him bristle, deep down. He focuses again on the linoleum of the kitchen floor, “Yuri…”

And the words drift off. Otabek is uncertain what to say. A heavy pause.

“I'm sorry.” Otabek apologizes, somewhat stiffly. “Please just forget that I said anything of it.”

Yuri quickly opens his mouth to speak, “Don't apol-”

“It's fine, Yuri. Fine.” Otabek cuts him off curtly, face stony, and Yuri bites back the flurry of questions and words and reprimands and things he wanted to speak. Partially, because an alpha had silenced him, but, more appropriately, because he understood that he'd hurt Otabek. Yuri scented the dejection on the air, and though he hadn't meant to come off in that manner, he knew that he needed to prevent worsening the situation.

 

~***~

 

“We should go out for dinner.”

They were on the phone. Yuri had gone home a couple hours earlier, understanding that he needed to give Otabek a bit of space and broach the subject at a later time.

He'd re-taken his suppressant. Half-vial. Freshly-fogged, he thought he ought to earn back Otabek’s good will, and decided to ask him out to dinner.

 

Otabek’s raised eyebrows were audible over the phone, though, thankfully, his voice betrayed none of the uncomfortable conversation that had taken place earlier in the day. “Dinner?”

Yuri confirms this, “Yes. Dinner. Somewhere nice. You and I. We haven't exactly taken time to celebrate… Everything, yet.” The Omega was flipping through a litany of pricey ( _pricey_ ) restaurants whilst they spoke. Something appreciable about living in New York: There truly was no end to the number of places you could go out to eat.

Otabek mulls this over briefly, then agrees. “I'd enjoy that, but I don't know if I'm able to afford that, you know.”

Yuri _hmmph_ s caustically, at this. “No need to worry. I'll pay for it. We'll have plenty of money, before too long, anyhow. I'll find us something. Requests?”

“Yuri, I don't want you emptying your bank account just for-”

“I didn't ask if you wanted me spending money, Beka-dearest, I asked what you wanted to eat.” Yuri cuts Otabek’s opposition off nonchalantly, and navigates through a myriad of Google-assembled restaurants. He'd need to find something that didn't need reservation months in advance.

Otabek is quiet for a moment. Then, “Seafood.”

Yuri agrees, “I hoped you'd say that. I'll find something, alright? Text you the time.”

 

Yuri had a hell of a time finding somewhere upscale that didn't require advance reservations this late in the day, but managed to land Otabek and himself a table at a very acclaimed and positively-reviewed bar/grill that specializes in seafood. The largest plus side was the distance of the place from their respective apartments: Even with evening traffic, they made it within a half-hour or so of their homes.

 

The whole evening, from there, was lovely. The restaurant was every bit worth the high cost, a truly beautiful piece of architecture. Live jazz played throughout. The food, the environment, Otabek… Yuri very thoroughly enjoyed it all. He gathered on plaintive observation that Otabek, too, had enjoyed himself.

 

Otabek had. It had been an unusual time, sure. The waitress had assumed them to be a couple, and, certainly, neither had minded. They'd gone for dinner, alone, Alpha and Omega, and they _were_ both romantically interested in one-another. A date, if the term needed definition. In any case, it pleased the Alpha in Otabek that Yuri was assumed to be… His partner. Another strange thing - A young Beta woman had recognized Yuri and himself, had asked if they were the two whom they were suspected of being. She'd seemed quite overjoyed, had asked for a picture, and chittered excitedly with several others about them when the whole affair had ended.

_Otabek was anxious. Would this become… Regular?_

 

_Yuri was bemused. This would become… Regular, soon enough._

The night went over without much hitch. He'd drunk, lightly. Some quality wine, a rather delicious cocktail. Funny thing about law involving Omegas - They could drink, legally, at a younger age than their counterparts.

It was controversial, as many debated that the law simply existed to make young Omegas more pliant to Alpha desire... Of course, Yuri didn't mind. If having presented as Omega had some miniscule, insignificant positive… Well, Yuri would take what he could get.

Buzzed, tipsy but not shitfaced, the Omega joins Otabek once more on his bike for the ride back home. Yuri seemed to take the trip as invitation to snuggle up to Otabek, as closely as he could from behind. He was feeling somewhat better with a little booze warming his veins, but Yuri could, still, feel his heat clawing its way out of the fuzz that his suppressants induced. It didn't help, not in the slightest, that the Alpha Yuri desired was within a centimeter of his skin, and had so… Kindly, offered to breed him into submission if it would ease his heat. (Perhaps the words ‘breed into submission’ weren't mentioned, but Yuri liked to think that they were.) Of course, Yuri hadn't any idea whether or not this offer still stood.

 

Anyhow. They eventually made their way home, Yuri clasped tightly to Otabek the entire ride there. He truly did feel quite content, nuzzled up against the other, wintery wind nipping his exposed neck as they ducked traffic at a rather nice pace. Nothing could hurt him, like this. Time didn't move, around them. And before long, they arrived at the door of Yuri’s little duplex. Otabek, the _sweetheart_ , helped Yuri out of his helmet. Yuri swayed, just a bit, unsteady on his feet. He found steadiness on Otabek’s arm, leaning into the larger man.

 

Snow… It was snowing. Soft white flecks drifted onto the backs of Yuri’s hands, onto Otabek’s shoulders. Reminded the Omega of a song, from an American musical which he had seen when he was younger, twelve or thirteen, with his mother.

Yuri sang, now, on the tips of his toes, nearer Otabek’s ear. “Oh, the moon…” Yuri croons, in perfect, mellowed musical theatre vibrato. “Oh, the snow in the moonlight…”

Otabek is frozen.

“And your childlike eyes, and your distant smile…”

Yuri gently sways against Otabek with the imagined rhythm of backing piano. “...I'll never be this happy, again…”

“You and I…” Yuri murmurs, voice tender and full with longing.

“...And no one…

…Else.”

 

The street was quiet as that final note faded, save for the distant barking of a dog, and the gentle movement of the wind as snow drifted calmly forth from above. Otabek couldn't find words.

_This was the one._

Otabek didn't know where the thought came from, less a thought than some strange promise from within. It was alarming, in a way.

_His one._

Yuri put a hand to Otabek’s cheek, and kissed him. Slow, steady, with all the tenderness and time in the world. Nothing about the contact suggested desperate desire, nothing about it spoke of an Omega in need of an Alpha’s touch. Not to say that Yuri wasn't a perfectly pleasurable person to kiss, for he was. They simply kissed, and it felt immensely natural, the only appropriate way to connect with one another. Yuri tasted rather like he smelled - Spice, sweetness. Otabek, the same. Cool, and crisp.

Melodies always bounced around in Otabek’s head. Always. He imagined one, now, slow progressions of acoustic guitar and strings.

 

When they broke for breath, resting foreheads together, Otabek met Yuri’s gaze. He did expect hollowness, or gone-ness… This was an Omega in-heat, pushing his luck with suppressants, mildly inebriated. Nothing about that should suggest a clear mind, and somehow, Yuri couldn't have looked more present, as they simply took time to gaze at one-another, rather taken.

“Yuri, I believe I may be in love with you.” Otabek states, the words spilling from him without hesitation.

“Obviously.” Yuri says, in that way of confidence, that way of reassurance, that _of course_ he was right, and there was nothing wrong with it, nothing to be ashamed of. There was confirmation, in that - Yuri could complete Otabek. Where Otabek fell short, Yuri supplied. Confidence, understanding… Yuri provided him with those.

A few breaths, flickering lamp-light.

“I think I may love you as well.” Yuri says, almost in a meditative manner. “It's… Scary, sorta.”

“How so?” Otabek asks, head cocked as he observes the changing expression of the boy holding to him, who, though he often could be read as an Omega with many more years experience than he'd actually had… Looked suddenly so very, very young.

Yuri thinks. “I don't want to hurt you. I want you to be comfortable and safe, and just fucking happy. I don't want to bring you back to that place in your mind, where your past is, where you fall into when you remember things. It scares me to think that I ever cause you that kind of pain.” He explains, true concern underlying his voice. The Omega brings his hands together with Otabek’s, and, though he hesitates at first, “I don't think I am able to control myself in the way that I should when I'm near you. You make my body want things that I don't know I could ask of you, ever.”

 

Fuck… _Fuck._ A million questions...

How could Otabek possibly respond to that?

How did Yuri understand so very precisely what went on in Otabek’s head, and articulate it so well?

How was it that, in a handful of days alone, Yuri had understood more of Otabek than many had in years?

How could Otabek possibly explain how much it pained him that his blatant desire for Yuri was inhibited by his fear of the past?

 

“You're so…” Otabek struggles for words. An adjective, to describe Yuri, the situation. “...You're odd.”

Otabek lands on the words before he can find better ones, and Yuri chuckles, face bright with smile. “I'm odd, Beka?”

“Well, you just… I can't ever make you out, you know?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You're… Intelligent, and very thoughtful, though you don't seem so at first glance. Kind… So, so fucking kind.” Otabek tries to explain, smiling in spite of himself.

Yuri chuffs with laughter. “Only to you. I'll have you know I'm usually quite the prick.”

Otabek shuffles his feet, simultaneously amused and pleased, at that. It pleased something, somewhere deep down, that something Yuri did was special to him. That he was an exception.

“Come inside?” Yuri asks with a small gesture of the hand towards his home, the pace of the exchange switching.

Otabek thinks, hesitates. Yuri catches this, “You can leave at any point. I won't be offended, or hurt. Promise.”

Otabek’s eyes dart to the sky, as though searching the snowflakes for answers. A moment, and he nods, just enough to be confirmation.

Yuri smiles, seeming… Excited, perhaps? Otabek never could tell.

 

~***~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, once more, there we have it. Thank you very much for reading, apologies for the repeated delay. Any questions, comments, constructive criticism and thoughts for future writing are welcome!
> 
> Until next time Xx


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